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The   Shadow 

of  a 

Great  Rock 


By 

William  R.  Lighton 


G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS 
NEW  YORK  AND  LONDON 

XLbe  Iknlckerbockec  Biress 

1907 


The   Shadow 

of  a 

Great  Rock 


By 

William  R.  Lighton 


G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS 
NEW  YORK  AND  LONDON 

Zbe  Ikntcherbocker  pvess 

1907 


Copyright,  1907 

BY 

G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS 


tChc  Iftnfcftcrbocftec  iprcso,  mew  SJotli 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

I. — What  Manner  of  Men       .        .        1 

II.— The  Woman  ....      35 

III.— On  the  Great  Trail  ...      72 

IV.— The  Way  OF  A  Man    .        .        .105 

v.— The  Battle 182 

YL— "  You  Shall  Love  Me  "      .        .     167 

VII.— A  Weary  Land.  .        .        ,203 

VIII. — In  the  Shadow  of  the  Eock       .     239 


111 


MS18945 


THE  SHADOW 
OF  A  GREAT  ROCK 


WHAT   MANNER    OF   MEN 

MID-JULY,  Eighteen  Hundred  and 
Fifty-four.  On  her  rude  bed  in 
the  formless  western  wilderness  the  great 
mother,  Destiny,  had  been  delivered  of 
an  infant  commonwealth,  which  was  lift- 
ing its  voice  in  the  first  shrill  wail  of 
surprise  over  the  strangeness  of  life. 
Already  its  name  was  chosen:  Nebraska. 
And  its  lot?  Mother-like,  this  mother 
had  seen  her  visions  in  the  bitter-sweet 
days  wherein  she  had  felt  the  new  life 
quickening.    Full    share    of    good    and 


2     The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

evil  would  befall  the  child,  no  doubt;  but 
deep  in  her  heart  of  hearts  she  had  known 
that  the  evil  must  pass  and  the  good  en- 
dure. Knowing  this  she  had  borne  her 
agony  steadfastly. 

Of  all  the  rough  frontier  towns  that 
stretched  in  a  ragged  line  along  the  east- 
ern bank  of  the  Missouri,  Council  Bluffs 
seemed  most  alive  with  the  robust  spirit 
of  the  time.  There  the  crowd  was  most 
motley;  there  the  leaping  pulse  could  best 
be  felt;  there  was  the  very  vortex  of  the 
mad  maelstrom  of  passionate  hope,  de- 
sire, and  purpose. 

Night  was  falling,  and  in  the  deepen- 
ing gloom,  with  the  shadows  thick  over 
the  dim  streets,  there  was  something  half 
eerie  in  the  town's  aspect.  The  road- 
ways were  filled  with  huge  freight-wag- 
gons, drawn  together  in  close  order  to 
leave  the  middle  of  the  thoroughfares 
clear.  All  around  were  oxen,  mules,  and 
horses,  released  from  harness  after  the 
day's  labour,  some  tethered  to  the  waggon- 


What  Manner  of  Men  3 

wheels  and  others  picketed  near  by,  graz- 
ing. At  intervals  loomed  the  black  bulk 
of  rude  log  buildings,  their  windows  and 
doors  gleaming  faintly  with  the  weak 
rays  of  candle-light — so  faintly  that  it 
seemed  no  more  than  the  phosphorescent 
shining  of  ghostly  eyes  staring  unwink- 
ing into  the  darkness.  Between  the 
buildings  and  all  around,  filling  every 
space,  tents  were  pitched  for  temporary 
shelter,  and  in  the  open  places  beyond 
were  a  hundred  white-covered  emigrant 
waggons,  holding  crowded  loads  of  men, 
women,  and  children.  The  flickering 
flames  of  myriad  tiny  campfires  pricked 
the  dusk  with  sharp  stabs  of  light;  the 
warm  air  was  heavy  ^vith  the  pungent 
odor  of  wood-smoke. 

Now  and  again  belated  waggons  came 
creaking  in,  by  twos  and  threes,  over 
the  eastern  trail,  and  found  camping 
grounds;  then  the  rich  scents  of  boiling 
coffee  and  frying  bacon  would  be  thickly 
mingled  with  the  drifting  smoke.  There 
was  everywhere  a  lusty  clamour  of  hoarse 
shouts    and   hoarser   laughter,    from   the 


4     The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

throats  of  men  who  passed  restlessly  back 
and  forth,  here  and  there,  the  light  of  the 
low  fires  making  them  appear  as  mere 
vast,  burly  Shapes.  Over  all,  dominat- 
ing every  separate  sound,  swelled  a  deep- 
toned,  resonant  murmur — the  voice  of  the 
spirit  of  the  multitude.  Now  and  then 
a  child  cried  fretfully;  sometimes  a  girl 
or  a  woman  sang  a  fragment  of  a  tune; 
there  were  unnumbered  sounds  in  the 
crowded  human  camp,  and  countless 
others  that  were  borne  in  from  the  enfold- 
ing night.  Yet  deeper,  stronger  than 
these  was  the  one  great  voice ;  inarticulate 
yet  vibrant  with  meaning,  crying  the  un- 
fathomable passion  of  a  new  exodus  to  a 
new  Promised  Land. 

The  BoltAvood  store,  standing  near  the 
centre  of  the  town,  was  a  favourite  gather- 
ing-place for  the  crowd.  It  was  a  long, 
one-roomed  building,  its  walls  made  of 
hewn  logs  chinked  with  mud,  its  low  roof 
of  poles  sagging  under  the  weight  of  sod 
and  earth  piled  atop.  Against  the  side 
walls,    on    rough    shelves    resting    upon 


What  Manner  of  Men  5 

wooden  pegs  driven  into  the  cliinking, 
was  ranged  a  great  supply  of  the  wares 
suited  to  the  primitive  needs  of  the  emi- 
grants; at  the  rear,  from  floor  to  ceihng, 
bales,  crates,  and  barrels  were  piled  in 
close  ranks.  A  space  was  left  clear  at 
the  forward  end  of  the  room,  where 
rough  wooden  benches  were  ranged  about 
rough  tables  made  of  planks,  and 
grouped  about  the  tables  were  many 
men,  packed  close,  talking,  laughing,  eat- 
ing, and  drinking.  The  day's  activity 
was  at  an  end,  its  tension  relaxed,  and  the 
actors  were  at  ease,  surrendering  them- 
selves to  a  jocund  comradeship.  There 
was  no  bar  in  the  room,  but  on  one  of  the 
tables  in  the  middle  of  the  floor  stood  a 
wooden  tub  half  filled  with  whiskey,  with 
tin  cups  hanging  from  the  handles  by 
long  chains.  This  was  a  gala  time,  and 
the  liquor  was  free;  whosoever  thirsted 
might  come  and  drink  his  fill.  The  tub 
had  been  full  to  the  brim  at  sunset,  two 
hours  gone.  Not  many  were  drunk,  but 
most  had  been  drinking  freely.     The  air 


6     The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

was  thick  with  the  reek  of  laden  breaths, 
with  pipe-smoke,  and  with  the  smell  of 
hot  men's  bodies.  Two  Omaha  Indians, 
smoke-stained  and  frowsy,  squatted  to- 
gether upon  the  floor  in  a  corner,  speak- 
ing sometimes  in  deep  gutturals  and 
regarding  the  strange  scene  with  furtive 
eyes;  three  or  four  half-breeds,  mongrel 
offspring  of  the  early  French  traders,  had 
a  table  to  themselves,  where  they  chat- 
tered noisily  in  the  patois  of  the  border; 
now  and  again  a  weather-tanned  woman 
passed  through  the  throng  to  barter  with 
the  busy  clerks  at  the  long  counters. 
But  the  great  majority  of  those  present 
were  men  of  the  master-race ;  one  type  was 
strongly  dominant — the  type  of  the 
American  pioneer. 

One  entered  presently  from  the  night 
and  stood  in  the  doorway,  looking  about 
him,  as  though  he  was  a  stranger  to  the 
place.  The  marks  of  hardship  were 
plain  upon  him;  his  hea\y  boots  were 
white  wdth  road-dust,  and  the  dust  lay 
thick  upon  his  black  hat,  upon  his  shoul- 


What  Manner  of  Men  7 

ders,  and  upon  his  tanned  cheeks,  where  it 
was  streaked  with  sweat.  But  it  needed 
only  a  glance  to  show  that  whatever  had 
befallen  him  weighed  lightly  upon  his 
spirit.  He  was  not  past  five  or  six  and 
twenty,  with  the  buoyant  health  and 
strength  which  make  physical  endurance 
a  joy.  He  stood  straight  and  tall,  his 
features  showing  firm  and  resolute;  his 
every  muscle  was  lithe,  free-moving,  full 
of  sturdy  agility.  A  pistol  was  in  a 
holster  at  his  belt— his  only  weapon  and 
burden. 

After  a  quick  glance  over  the  crowd 
he  walked  to  one  of  the  counters  and 
bought  food;  then,  finding  a  seat,  he  ate 
with  ravenous  appetite.  No  one  gave 
heed  to  him;  he  was  but  one  of  many;  a 
hungry  wayfarer  more  or  less  counted 
for  little  in  that  throng. 

When  his  wolfish  hunger  was  somewhat 
satisfied  he  looked  about  him  again,  at 
greater  leisure  and  with  keener  interest, 
scanning  the  faces  one  by  one,  as  though 
he  hoped  yet  hardly  expected  to  find  one 


8     The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

that  was  kno\Mi.  And  suddenly  a  light 
of  pleasure  shone  in  his  ej^es,  as  they 
rested  upon  three  men  at  the  opposite 
side  of  the  room,  grouped  about  a  small 
table,  on  which  was  a  single  flickering 
candle,  a  htter  of  papers,  and  a  torn  out- 
spread map.  Two  of  the  men  bent  over 
the  map,  deeply  intent,  following  its  lines 
with  their  fingers  and  talking  earnestly, 
but  the  third  leaned  idly  back  with  his 
shoulders  against  the  wall,  giving  only 
light  heed  to  what  his  companions  were 
about. 

His  was  a  handsome,  boyish  face,  its 
j'-outhful  flush  heightened  and  its  eyes 
feverishly  brightened  by  drink.  His 
full  lips  were  relaxed  in  an  amused  smile 
at  the  fervid  spectacle  before  him;  his 
eyelids  drooped  heavily;  the  pipe  he  held 
between  his  teeth  was  tipped  side^vise 
and  its  ashes  spilled  thickly  over  his  wool- 
len shirt.  Seen  thus,  his  was  the  face  of 
a  devil-may-care;  his  features  were  well- 
lined,  good-tempered,  betraying  a  gener- 
ous warmth  of  impulse;  but  they  were 


What  Manner  of  Men  9 

wanting  in  those  tokens  of  self-mastery 
which  make  the  best  of  manhood. 

"  See  here,  Jack;  look  at  this,"  one  of 
his  companions  said,  with  a  show  of  im- 
patience, urging  the  boy's  attention. 
"  Here 's  where  we  strike  the  Leaven- 
worth trail ;  and  then  we  follow  the  Platte 
clear  to  the  mouth  of  the  Sweetwater. 
Look,  man!  " 

The  boy  turned  his  sleepy  glance  upon 
them  with  a  short,  meaningless  laugh. 
"  It 's  all  right,  Joe,"  he  said,  hghtly. 
"  If  you  say  so,  it 's  good  enough  for  me. 
I  don't  care.  That  whiskey  has  made 
me  too  comfortable;  I  don't  want  to 
worry  about  anything.  Wait  a  minute, 
till  I  get  another  drink ;  maybe  it  '11  wake 
me  up  some." 

He  arose  and  walked  unsteadily  to  the 
tub,  dipping  up  a  cupful  of  the  liquor. 
As  he  raised  it  to  his  lips,  his  eyes  met 
those  of  the  new-comer,  fixed  upon  him, 
and  the  cup  fell  from  his  hand  Avith  a 
clatter,  the  untasted  whiskey  splashing 
upon  the  floor. 


lo  The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

"Mark  Bailey!  Why,  Mark!"  he 
cried,  surprise  stiffening  his  drooping 
figure,  his  vacant  smile  giving  place  to 
an  expression  of  lively  pleasure-  Their 
hands  met  in  a  firm  pressure,  and  the 
boy's  arm  was  laid  affectionately  across 
the  man's  broad  shoulders.  The  style  of 
the  welcome  brought  a  vagrant  flush  into 
Bailey's  tanned  cheeks,  making  it  plain 
that  he  shared  in  the  other's  feeling.  He 
did  not  speak  at  once;  his  eyes  were  busy 
with  taking  account  of  his  friend's  ap- 
pearance, as  though  they  had  met  after  a 
long  separation. 

"  It 's  the  same  old  Jack  Forrester, 
without  a  hair  changed,"  he  said  pres- 
ently, a  note  of  fondness  in  his  deep 
voice,    "  Lord,    but    I  'm    glad    to    see 

you!" 

"  In  heaven's  name,  Mark,"  the 
younger  man  returned,  "  tell  me  about 
it.    How  did  you  happen  to  get  here?  " 

Bailey  laughed  lightly.  "  The  bars 
were  all  down,"  he  said,  "  and  nobody 
seemed  to  want  to  stop  me." 


What  Manner  of  Men  n 

*'  Well,  but  the  last  I  heard  of  you,  a 
year  ago,  they  said  you  were  getting  rich, 
back  there  in  your  little  old  Ohio." 

"  Rich!  "  Bailey  echoed,  his  laugh  per- 
sisting. "  The  man  that  told  you  that 
must  have  got  it  out  of  his  dream-book. 
I  've  just  been  scraping  out  a  bare  living. 
Ohio  has  nearly  busted  me.  That 's  why 
I  came  out  here;  maybe  a  new  pack  and 
a  new  deal  mil  change  my  luck.  But 
I  've  had  the  devil's  own  time  getting 
here.  I  've  walked  half-way  across  the 
State." 

"Walked?"  Forrester  said.  "Two 
hundred  miles? " 

"  There  's  certainly  a  whole  lot  of  dis- 
tance between  the  Des  INIoines  and  the 
Bluffs,"  Bailey  returned.  "But  I  had 
time  to  match,  and  I  needed  the  training. 
It  took  me  ten  days,  wading  through  dust 
knee-deep,  most  of  the  way.  It  did  me 
good.  I  've  learned  a  lot  I  did  n't  know 
before.  I  've  been  cooking  my  own 
victuals  over  a  brush  fire,  and  sleeping 
on   the    ground    with    nothing   over   me. 


1 2    The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

I  'd  never  done  that  before.  I  killed 
most  of  my  own  grub,  too,  with  my  six- 
shooter — rabbits  and  birds.  It  helped 
to  work  a  lot  of  the  fat  off  me — body  and 
mind  too.  I  've  had  the  time  of  my  life. 
I  reckon  I  need  n't  ask  any  questions 
about  you;  yours  was  always  the  stand- 
ing Forrester  luck." 

For  answer  Forrester  thrust  his  hand 
into  his  trousers  pocket  and  brought  forth 
a  crumpled,  disorderly  mass  of  bills. 
"  I  'm  bloated  out  of  shape  with  this 
stuff,"  he  said;  "deformed  with  it.  I 
don't  believe  I  could  shake  loose  from  it 
if  I  tried.  You  '11  have  to  take  some  of 
it,  if  you  're  broke.  This  is  no  country 
to  be  broke  in;  and  the  Lord  knows  I  've 
got  more  than  is  good  for  me." 

Bailey's  strong  hand  rested  with  a  light 
pressure  upon  the  boy's  shoulder. 

"  I  don't  want  your  money,"  he  said. 
"  It  is  n't  so  bad  as  that.  I  've  got  a 
thousand  dollars  tucked  away  inside  my 
shirt,  to  begin  with.  That 's  enough. 
The  only  thing  I  '11  let  you  give  me  right 


What  Manner  of  Men  13 

now  is  a  drink.  My  throat  feels  hke  the 
inside  of  a  fur  boot." 

"My  luck  again!"  Forrester  retorted 
whimsically.  "  Nobody  can  pay  for  a 
drink  here ;  it 's  free.  Here,  help  your- 
self." He  turned  to  the  whiskey -tub, 
dipping  up  a  cupful  and  passing  it  to  his 
friend's  hand.  Bailey  sipped  lightly  at 
the  raw  spirits,  gasping  as  the  fiery  fumes 
caught  his  parched  throat;  then  he  drank 
two  or  three  deep  gulps,  and  the  cup  was 
half  emptied. 

"  Now,  show  me  some  water,"  he  said. 

In  the  littered  yard  at  the  rear  of  the 
building  was  a  well.  They  groped  their 
way  to  it  in  the  darkness,  and  Bailey 
drew  a  fresh  bucketful  from  the  cool 
depths.  Tipping  it  upon  the  curb,  he 
drank  long  and  greedily;  then  filled  his 
doubled  hands  again  and  again,  bathing 
his  dusty  face  and  neck,  wdping  the  water 
away  with  his  handkerchief. 

"That 's  the  stuff!  "  he  said  gratefully. 
"  Now  I  don't  need  anything  more  but 
some  sleep ;  and  I  need  that  bad.     I  'm 


14  The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

dead  tired.  I  'd  made  up  my  mind  that 
I  'd  finish  my  trip  to-night  and  sleep  in 
Nebraska.  How  do  you  get  across  the 
river  { 

"  You  can't,"  Forrester  returned. 
"  You  '11  have  to  stay  here  till  morning. 
There  's  a  ferry,  but  it  does  n't  run  after 
night.  You  're  going  to  stay  with  me  to- 
night, and  then  I  '11  go  across  with  you 
to-morrow,  and  we  '11  take  a  look  around. 
You  '11  want  to  find  something  to  do, 
won't  you?  I  can  tell  you  a  lot  about  the 
place.  I  've  been  here  six  weeks — I  'm 
one  of  the  old  settlers." 

Bailey  considered,  with  a  show  of  dis- 
appointment. "  I  won't  sleep  easy  on 
this  side,"  he  said.  "  I  'd  set  my  heart  on 
being  over  yonder." 

"  Well,  it 's  no  use,"  Forrester  insisted. 
"  I  tell  you  there  's  no  way  to  get  across. 
Even  if  there  was,  I  would  n't  let  you  go. 
I  want  you  to  meet  those  fellows  I  'm 
with — two  of  the  best  men  out  here.  I 
did  n't  tell  you ;  but  we  're  organising  a 
big    freighting    outfit — a    waggon-train. 


What  Manner  of  Men  15 

you  know,  to  take  stuff  across  the  plains 
to  Salt  Lake,  and  maybe  to  the  coast. 
There  's  a  mint  of  money  in  it.  Why, 
say,  JNIark,  why  can't  you  come  in  with 
us  ?  I  can  fix  it  for  you.  We  're  going 
to  need  good  men.  Come  in  and  let 's 
talk  it  over." 

He  led  the  way  back  to  his  table.  His 
companions  were  still  intent  upon  their 
map;  but  their  interest  was  suspended  for 
a  time,  while  they  welcomed  Bailey,  mak- 
ing a  place  for  him  and  inviting  him  to 
join  them. 

One  of  the  two,  Joe  Cannon,  was  a 
burly,  hairy  giant,  whose  bushy  head  and 
beard  of  fieiy  red,  massive  shoulders,  and 
huge  hands  showed  the  robust  animal. 
The  other,  James  Frick,  was  of  slighter 
make,  thin-lipped,  lean  of  feature,  with  a 
bony  forehead  of  marked  breadth  that 
shadowed  steady,  cool  eyes.  Repression 
and  restraint  distinguished  him.  Though 
he  listened  carefully  to  all  that  was  said, 
alert  and  watchful,  it  was  hard  to  judge 
of  the  impression  the  talk  made  upon  him, 


1 6   The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

so  little  did  his  manner  betray  him.  Yet 
there  was  in  this  no  suggestion  of  mere 
craft  or  cunning.  He  was  not  the  sort 
of  man  to  whom  men  are  easily  attracted. 
He  could  be  generous  enough,  upon  oc- 
casion, but  his  generosities  would  be  all 
well-planned,  judicial,  never  bhndly  im- 
pulsive. 

Cannon  was  one  of  those  who 
give  with  open  hands,  recklessly  and  to 
the  uttermost.  He  would  have  a  score 
of  friends  to  Frick's  one.  Yet  Frick 
was  plainly  much  his  superior  in  many  of 
the  ways  of  manhood — far  above  the  av- 
erage. He  looked  the  part  of  the  born 
leader,  while  Cannon  showed  only  sheer, 
gross  animal  force,  of  the  sort  that  does 
its  best  work  under  wise  leadership.  For- 
rester said  as  much  when  he  presented 
Mark  to  the  two. 

"Here  we  are,  Mark:  Brains,  and 
nerve,  and  money.  Frick  thinks;  and 
Joe  Cannon  can  do  anything  Frick  can 
think.  I  'm  the  rich  man  of  the  bunch. 
They  can't  beat  our  combination.     If  the 


What  Manner  of  Men  17 

country  turns  out  as  well  as  it  ought  to, 
we  '11  make  millions." 

"What?"  Cannon  cried,  his  big  voice 
carrying  a  vibrant,  thunderous  roll.  "  If 
it  turns  out  well!  Why,  good-goddle- 
mighty!"  He  threw  his  bulky  figure 
forward  upon  the  table,  thrusting  his 
bearded  face  toward  Forrester  aggres- 
sively, spreading  out  his  great  hands  upon 
the  strewn  papers.  "  There  never  was 
no  country  yet  hke  what  there  '11  be,  yon 
side  the  river,"  he  roared.  "  I  'm  tellin' 
you!  Why,  the  pick  of  all  the  men  on 
earth  are  comin'  out  here,  right  now. 
That 's  what  makes  a  country.  That 's 
what  makes  me  know  it  '11  be  a  world- 
beater — because  the  lazy  cowards  are 
goin'  to  stay  away  from  it  for  a  while — 
them  sneaks  that  are  huntin'  an  easy  time. 
If  a  man " 

Forrester  interrupted  with  his  habitual 
easy  laugh.  "  Oh,  shut  up,  Joe.  I  'm 
tired  to  death  of  that  talk.  It 's  going  to 
be  nothing  but  a  big,  raw  ^vilderness  for 
years,  without  a  damned  thing  in  it  to 


1 8    The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

make  a  man's  life  worth  while,  unless 
he  's  half  a  beast  to  begin  with.  There  '11 
be  chances  to  fight,  and  chances  to  get 
rich,  and  nothing  else — a  place  to  waste 
the  best  of  your  hfe  in.  But  I  reckon 
there'll  be  lots  of  fun  in  the  wasting; 
and  I  've  alwaj^s  been  a  pretty  good 
waster." 

"  It 's  hard  to  say  what  mil  come  of 
it,"  Frick  said,  in  slow,  unimpassioned 
quiet.  "  We  're  going  to  help  win  the 
country  for  the  men  that  come  after  us. 
What  we  '11  get  out  of  it  for  ourselves 
is  n't  written  on  the  wall.  What  are  you 
thinking  of  doing,  Bailey?" 

Forrester  cut  in  before  Mark  could 
reply.  "  Say,  let  me  tell  j^ou.  I  've  told 
Mark  about  our  scheme.  He  's  looking 
for  a  chance,  and  I  'd  like  it  mighty  well 
if  he  could  go  with  us.  He  's  the  sort  of 
man  we  want.  I  '11  stand  good  for  that. 
I  'd  like  to  sell  him  a  part  of  my  share  in 
the  outfit,  if  he 's  satisfied  after  he 's 
looked  into  it.  You  fellows  won't  be 
soriy." 


What  Manner  of  Men  19 

His  suggestion  met  with  ready  favour. 
For  an  hour  they  sat,  discussing  plans 
and  conditions;  and  at  the  hour's  end  it 
was  agreed  that  Bailey  would  be  admitted 
as  a  partner  in  the  enterprise  if  within 
a  few  days  he  found  nothing  more  to  his 
liking.  The  talk,  filled  with  the  spirit  of 
the  time  and  place,  gave  to  him  a  sense 
of  buoyant  elation.  Then  Frick  en- 
gaged himself  again  with  his  papers, 
calm,  intent,  absorbed. 

But  Cannon  dropped  his  personal  con- 
cerns, that  he  might  indulge  his  passion 
for  speech  with  a  sympathetic  listener 
concerning  the  immeasurable  possibilities 
of  the  virgin  land  beyond  the  river.  He 
had  gathered  from  here  and  there  a 
chaotic  medley  of  facts,  theories,  and  fan- 
cies, which  he  poured  out  upon  Bailey 
in  a  bewildering  flood.  He  was  not  logi- 
cal; it  would  have  been  easy  to  find 
numberless  weaknesses  in  what  he  said; 
yet  his  vagaries,  his  sheerest  inconsisten- 
cies, his  very  contradictions,  were  some- 
how held  together  and  almost  harmonised 


20   The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

by  his  virile  enthusiasm.  Mark  Hstened 
eagerly.  His  mind  was  in  many  ways 
closely  akin  to  Cannon's.  He  had  come 
to  the  new  country  to  make  his  fortune; 
and  what  he  heard,  delivered  in  the  giant's 
ringing  voice,  fitted  in  admirably  with  his 
own  bold,  far-reaching  desires,  satisfying 
him.  He  was  not  too  particular  about 
details.  The  whiskey  he  had  taken  had 
eased  the  ache  in  his  muscles  and  given  a 
fine  exhilaration  to  his  thoughts,  so  that 
the  very  bigness  and  wildness  of  the  life 
ahead  enticed  him.  He  could  feel  the 
warm  blood  flushing  his  cheeks;  the 
clamour  of  confused  noises  in  the  room, 
growing  a  little  maudlin  under  the  effects 
of  the  liquor,  somehow  aroused  in  him  a 
grateful  sense  of  fellowship;  he  would 
have  liked  to  shout  with  the  rest,  in  the 
pure  joy  of  life  and  strength.  He  drank 
again  presently,  when  Cannon  and  For- 
rester invited  him.  After  that  his  blood 
leaped  with  the  lustiness  of  his  youth,  and 
every  rude  element  in  the  picture  before 
his    eyes    was    invested    with    a    golden 


What  Manner  of  Men  21 

glamour.  In  every  man's  soul  throbbed 
pulses  of  power  and  passions  of  fire,  fit 
for  the  struggle  that  was  to  come  against 
the  titanic  forces  of  the  wilderness.  It 
was  like  the  night  before  a  battle,  when 
the  fighters  are  drunk  with  visions  of 
victory. 

Toward  the  last,  Cannon  had  another 
listener;  a  young  man  who  sat  at  one  of 
the  nearer  tables,  looking  on  at  the  stir- 
ring scene  but  taking  no  part.  He 
seemed  to  be  without  companions,  for  he 
spoke  to  none  of  those  at  his  table.  While 
Cannon  thundered  on  in  his  tireless  glori- 
fication, the  stranger  turned  in  his  seat, 
giving  close  attention.  Presently  he  arose 
and  came  nearer. 

"  JNIy  name 's  Braidlaw,"  he  said. 
"  I  've  heard  what  you  've  been  talking 
about.  You  're  going  to  run  a  freight- 
ing outfit  west.  I  'm  going  to  Califor- 
nia, mth  my  sister.  I  did  n't  know  but 
maybe  you  could  give  me  a  job  with  your 
train  and  let  me  work  my  way  out,  as  far 
as  you  go." 


22    The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

The  speech  seemed  frank  and  honest 
enough:  yet  Bailey's  first  impulse  was 
one  of  dislike.  He  could  hardly  have 
told  why.  The  man  was  of  about  his 
own  age,  strong  and  sinewy  in  figure, 
with  a  bold-featured  face  that  would  have 
been  handsome  but  that  the  clean-shaven 
lips  were  too  full  and  pouting  and  the 
thick,  straight,  black  brows  too  closely 
meeting.  His  black  eyes  showed  a  dull, 
smoky  lustre,  giving  an  expression  much 
too  sombre,  almost  sinister.  Cannon 
too  seemed  instinctively  distrustful,  for 
the  habitual  genial  warmth  died  out  of 
his  voice  as  he  answered. 

"  I  don't  know.  We  '11  need  men,  but 
it 's  too  soon  yet.  Who  knows  you, 
hereabouts  ?  " 

"  No  one,"  Braidlaw  answered.  "  We 
only  got  in  to-day,  from  Illinois.  I 
have  n't  any  friends  here,  that  I  know  of. 
But  I  've  got  to  get  some  kind  of  work, 
going  west." 

"  Well,"  Cannon  returned,  a  little  un- 
easy   under    the    steady    stare    of    the 


What  Manner  of  Men  23 

stranger's  eyes,  "  we  ain't  ready  yet. 
It  '11  be  a  month  or  so.  You  better  not 
count  on  it,  if  you  can  find  anything  else. 
Are  you  ox-broke — can  you  drive  an  ox- 
team?" 

"  I  never  have,"  the  other  returned,  a 
shade  of  disappointment  showing  in  his 
voice  and  bearing.  "  But  I  'm  used  to 
horses,  and  I  could  learn  with  oxen,  I 
suppose.     I  '11  need  the  work." 

"  Well,"  Cannon  repeated,  still  visibly 
on  his  guard,  "  we  '11  talk  about  it  after 
a  while,  if  you  're  still  around.  We  're 
the  Forrester  outfit;  you  can't  lose  us; 
we  're  goin'  to  leave  an  awful  lot  of  awful 
wide  trail,  when  we  get  things  to  movin'. 
You  might  keep  askin'." 

And  with  that  Braidlaw  had  to  be  sat- 
isfied for  the  time.  As  he  returned  to  his 
seat.  Cannon's  glance  follow^ed  him 
gravely. 

"  Him!  "  he  muttered.  "  Not  for  me, 
Bailey.  He  don't  seem  to  belong  to  me, 
somehow;  struck  me  a  good  deal  like 
drawin'   a   black   two-spot   when   you  're 


24    The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

tryin'  to  fill  a  red  flush.  No,  sir;  that 
boy  goes  in  the  discard  unless  we  happen 
to  need  him  terrible  bad." 

Forrester  had  fallen  asleep,  his  head 
resting  upon  his  arms  on  the  table;  Frick 
was  heedless  of  everything  but  the  maze 
of  figures  before  him ;  but  Cannon  seemed 
to  have  taken  leave  of  business  for  the 
day,  preferring  to  keep  on  with  his  sturdy 
rhapsody,  though  Mark's  attention  was 
beginning  to  waver  as  his  need  for  rest 
made  itself  felt  again.  After  another 
half -hour  the  crowd  was  thinning  out 
somewhat;  but  the  noise  swelled  stronger 
than  ever  from  the  throats  of  the  hardier 
ones  who  remained.  With  some  the 
earlier  jollity  was  passing  into  frenzy. 
In  their  separate  corner  the  little  group 
of  half-breeds  began  to  quarrel  bitterly. 
A  knife  was  drawn,  and  one  of  the  brawl- 
ers got  a  long  cut  across  his  cheek,  from 
which  the  blood  spurted  freely.  They 
were  thrown  with  rude  force  into  the 
road,  to  finish  their  fight  if  they  would  in 
the    darkness.     The    incident    seemed   to 


What  Manner  of  Men  25 

be  fuel  for  the  half-mad  spirit  of  the 
roisterers;  the  many  voices  swelled  to  a 
discordant  clamour,  mingled  with  bois- 
terous singing  and  ribald  cries. 

A  woman  came  to  the  open  doorway 
and  stood  looking  over  the  crowd  within. 
She  was  clad  as  a  widow;  middle-aged, 
round  of  face  and  figure,  thoroughly  self- 
possessed,  as  though  she  found  herself 
quite  comfortable  and  at  ease  in  that  rude 
setting.  At  sight  of  her  Bailey  spoke  a 
thought  which  had  been  in  his  mind  again 
and  again  during  the  evening. 

"  It  '11  be  hard  on  the  women,  w^on't  it, 
in  the  new  country  ?  Even  if  they  've 
got  folks,  they  '11  have  to  stand  a  lot ;  but 
if  they  're  alone  I  'm  sorry  for  'em. 
There  's  that  widow  over  there " 

Cannon  turned  quickly  to  look;  then 
he  arose,  his  ruddy  face  wrinkling  with  an 
overspreading  grin. 

"  She  's  no  widder,"  he  cried.  "  She 
used  to  be,  but  she  's  reformed.  She  's 
my  wife,  ever  since  a  month  ago,  only 
she  ain't  got  her  new  clothes  made  yet. 


26    The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

But  me  an'  her  knows  she  's  no  widder. 
She  's  lookin'  for  me,  I  reckon.  I  better 
go." 

When  he  was  gone,  Mark  too  arose 
and  went  out.  The  roadway  had  fallen 
into  deeper  darkness,  so  that  he  had 
trouble  in  picking  his  way  along.  Once 
he  stumbled  and  fell  over  the  bulky  body 
of  an  ox  that  lay  upon  the  ground,  still 
yoked  to  its  mate,  in  readiness  for  the 
morrow.  Men  too  were  sleeping  here 
and  there,  beside  the  waggons,  covered 
with  blankets,  their  heads  pillowed  upon 
boots  or  saddles.  Silence  was  over  all; 
silence  and  slumber. 

A  half-formed  purpose  guided  Mark's 
steps.  He  had  set  his  heart  upon  reach- 
ing Nebraska  before  he  slept;  if  that 
was  not  to  be,  he  would  at  least  have  a 
look  at  the  river-barrier.  He  hurried  on- 
ward toward  the  water  front  until  he 
came  presently  upon  a  picture  which 
made  him  halt  and  stand  for  a  time, 
wondering. 

A  small  fire  had  been  kindled  at  the 


What  Manner  of  Men  27 

side  of  the  open  roadway,  as  the  centre 
of  a  camp ;  but  it  had  fallen  low  and  made 
but  a  narrow  circle  of  soft  light  in  the 
enveloping  gloom.  The  bulk  of  recum- 
bent men's  figures  showed  dimly  against 
the  black  earth,  and  close  to  the  fire  was  a 
mother  wdth  her  child,  both  in  deep  sleep, 
the  baby's  bare,  round  legs  kicked  free  of 
the  covering  and  lying  outstretched  in  the 
warmth.  Near  to  these  lay  another  fig- 
ure, whether  of  girl  or  woman  Mark 
could  not  at  first  be  sure,  so  slight  it  ap- 
peared on  its  great,  rude  bed.  The  face 
was  turned  full  to  the  fire-glow;  a  sweet, 
fair  face,  almost  childish  in  its  delicacy, 
yet  mature  in  the  firm  strength  of  the 
lines  of  lips  and  chin  and  in  the  breadth  of 
the  full  forehead,  that  was  half  hidden  by 
a  thick  mass  of  tumbled  brown  hair.  One 
arm  was  beneath  her  head  as  a  pillow ;  her 
hand,  pressing  the  bare  earth,  was  small, 
almost  fragile.  She  was  resting  in  per- 
fect tranquillity,  as  though  knowing 
neither  fear  nor  discomfort;  yet  as  he 
looked,    Mark's    thoughts    were    flooded 


28   The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

with  a  sudden  warmth  of  pity  and 
tenderness. 

"God!"  he  breathed.  "What's  she 
doing  here? "  For  a  long  time  he  stood, 
looking  down  upon  her  with  a  sort  of  awe. 
The  blanket  that  covered  her  had  slipped 
low  upon  her  shoulders,  exposing  her  to 
the  dewy  night  air,  and  she  stirred 
slightly,  as  with  a  shiver.  Very  quietly 
Mark  drew  nearer,  bending  over,  draw- 
ing the  blanket  closer  about  her;  hardly 
breathing,  fearful  lest  the  veiy  beating 
of  his  heart  might  waken  and  frighten 
her.  But  she  slept  on,  all  unconscious,  and 
he  drew  back  into  the  shadow  of  the  big 
waggon,  turning  there  for  another  look- 

"  I  wonder  where  she 's  going,"  he 
mused;  then,  quick  upon  the  heels  of  that 
thought:  "  I  wonder  if  I  '11  ever  see  her 
again.  It 's  an  awful  big  country,  out 
yonder.  I  wish — "  But  the  wish  was 
too  vague  to  find  form,  even  in  his  mus- 
ing, and  he  turned  away,  going  slowly 
on  toward  the  river. 

When  he  stood  at  last  upon  the  bank, 


What  Manner  of  Men  29 

he  felt  that  his  purpose  must  be  aban- 
doned. Along  the  river  front  was  only- 
darkness.  The  clumsy  ferry-barge  was 
securely  moored,  and  no  living  creature 
was  in  sight.  It  needed  but  a  moment 
to  show  the  danger  of  trying  to  swim  the 
stream,  however  expert  and  fearless  he 
might  be.  The  mighty  waters,  eddying 
against  the  crumbling,  sandy  bank,  tear- 
ing it  away  little  by  little  almost  from 
beneath  his  feet,  stretching  black  and  for- 
midable to  the  Nebraska  hills.  The  rush- 
ing current  seemed  terrible  in  its  power. 
But  while  he  stood  hesitating  there  flashed 
upon  him  a  sudden  reckless  desire  to 
match  himself  against  the  water.  He 
had  an  unshaken  confidence  in  the 
strength  of  his  healthy  young  body,  which 
had  never  yet  failed  him;  in  his  present 
mood  the  threat  of  danger  was  in  itself 
an  invitation.  Throwing  off  his  boots 
and  hat,  he  fastened  them  securely  across 
his  shoulders ;  then,  v,ith  a  laugh  that  was 
half  sheer  defiance  and  half  pure  abandon, 
he  plunged  into  the  stream. 


30   The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

Close  against  the  bank  the  water  was 
no  more  than  waist-deep;  yet  he  was 
thrown  from  his  feet  helplessly  and  swept 
along  in  the  grasp  of  a  force  which  he 
felt  instinctively  would  tax  his  endurance 
to  the  uttermost.  He  wasted  no  strength 
in  fighting  against  the  current,  but  was 
content  to  drift  with  it,  keeping  his  face 
upstream,  and  with  the  cunning  art  of  a 
practised  swimmer  making  it  aid  him  on 
his  way.  Where  the  current  ran  straight 
and  smooth,  however  swift,  he  was  its 
master;  that  he  knew  at  once,  so  soon  as 
he  had  settled  to  his  work  and  gained 
control  of  his  stroke.  But  he  knew  too, 
within  a  few  moments,  that  this  was  the 
least  part  of  what  he  must  face.  Again 
and  again  he  vv^as  borne,  without  warn- 
ing, into  the  heart  of  a  wide  expanse 
where  the  waters  halted  in  their  onward 
course  to  indulge  in  demonic  sport — 
dancing,  swirling,  boiling,  as  in  an  infer- 
nal cauldron,  choked  thick  with  sand  up- 
borne from  the  deep  bed.  Now  he  would 
be  lifted  with  his   shoulders   and  breast 


What  Manner  of  Men  31 

clear  of  the  surface,  his  arms  beating  the 
air;  then  in  the  next  moment  the  eddy- 
would  clutch  him  like  a  living  monster, 
dragging  him  doAvn,  down,  into  nether 
blackness,  and  he  would  fight  ^dth  wild 
fury,  struggling  to  rise,  until  his  deep 
lungs  seemed  rending  with  the  pain  of 
suffocation.  Then  another  stretch  of 
smooth,  gliding  current,  where  he  suf- 
fered himself  to  drift,  keeping  barely 
afloat,  regaining  his  spent  breath  and 
strength  against  the  next  encounter  with 
one  of  those  mad  whirlpools.  Though  it 
was  so  sore  a  strain  upon  his  body,  the 
contest  was  tonic  to  his  will.  Had  he 
been  wanting  in  that  exultant,  lordly 
courage  which  marks  the  born  fighter,  he 
must  have  sunk  to  his  death  wdthin  the 
first  hundred  5^ards;  but  in  the  moments 
of  his  greatest  peril  his  will  would  assert 
itself,  masterful,  supreme. 

Only  once  did  he  feel  anything  like  de- 
spair. He  had  fought  his  way  through 
a  whirlpool  and  was  floating  again,  his 
every    muscle    shaking    with    exhaustion, 


32   The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

when  he  was  carried  against  a  sunken  tree 
that  was  anchored  fast  in  the  sand,  and 
found  his  legs  entangled  in  the  ragged 
network  of  its  dead  branches;  and  again 
the  choking  water  covered  him.  A  wave 
of  passion  swept  his  soul — in  part  a  form- 
less prayer,  and  in  part  sheer  savage  joy 
that  if  this  was  to  be  the  end  he  would  die 
fighting.  Then  with  a  supreme  effort  he 
cast  himself  free.  In  the  next  moment  he 
was  carried  against  a  low  sandbar  that 
lay  dry  above  the  river's  surface ;  and  with 
his  last  remaining  strength  he  crawled 
out  upon  it,  falling  at  his  length,  gasping 
and  utterly  spent. 

For  a  full  half-hour  he  lay,  hardly 
moving,  until  his  death-like  weariness 
passed.  When  he  stood  up,  he  saw  that 
he  had  crossed  the  greater  part  of  the 
river's  width.  The  wooded  hills  of  Ne- 
braska loomed  close  before  him,  and  the 
channel  running  between  bar  and  bank 
appeared  of  an  even  blackness,  unbroken 
by  the  deadly  eddies.  After  a  little  time 
he  plunged  in  again,   swimming  freely. 


What  Manner  of  Men  33 

Soon  his  hand  caught  at  a  pendent  vine, 
and  he  clambered  out  upon  the  shore. 

Across  the  river,  far  in  the  distance, 
ghmmered  a  cluster  of  feeble  specks  of 
light,  hardly  distinguishable,  that  marked 
the  town  he  had  left — the  very  outmost 
western  border  of  civilisation.  West- 
ward stretched  a  vast  new  empire,  un- 
known, untried,  as  yet  untainted  by  the 
tragedy  of  weakness  and  failure — a  splen- 
did wilderness,  calling  a  bold  challenge  to 
those  who  were  destined  to  become  its 
conquerors.  And  as  he  stood  at  the  riv- 
er's brink,  with  the  sense  of  victory  fresh 
upon  him,  there  was  that  within  his  heart 
which  cried  a  dauntless  answer  to  the 
challenge.  He  would  be  a  sharer  in  the 
glory  of  the  conquest. 

He  found  a  sheltered  spot  in  a  narrow 
ravine  between  wooded  hills,  where  the 
ground  was  strewn  with  deep,  A^ald-smell- 
ing  mould;  and  there  he  stretched  him- 
self at  his  length,  burrowing  into  the  soft 
warmth.  But  despite  his  profound  ex- 
haustion, sleep  did  not  come  at  once.  For 


34    The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

many  minutes  he  lay  staring  with  wide 
eyes  at  the  vague  shapes  about  him,  while 
through  his  thoughts  there  swept,  in  swift 
procession,  the  events  of  the  crowded 
day.  But  that  passed  presently,  as 
through  a  cleft  in  the  wind-blown  tree- 
tops  he  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  tranquil 
stars,  and  the  deeps  of  his  mind  were 
stirred  by  another  thought — not  of  strife, 
not  of  conquest,  but  of  a  sleeping  fact  lit 
by  the  red  glow  of  firelight.  In  the  last 
moment  before  he  slept  the  face  floated 
before  him,  outlined  against  the  deep 
background  of  infinity — stars  for  the  lips 
and  chin,  stars  for  the  soft  curve  of  the 
cheek,  two  glorious  stars  for  the  eyes,  and 
a  long  and  shining  strand  of  star-cloud 
for  a  mass  of  gold-brown  hair. 


II 

THE  WOMAN 

ONLY  once  in  the  night  did  Mark 
awaken,  startled  for  a  moment  by 
the  shrill,  wailing  cry  of  a  pack  of  hungry 
coj'otes,  that  were  pursuing  their  hunt 
along  the  crest  of  the  bluff  above  his  re- 
treat. When  they  had  gone  on  their 
way,  leaving  behind  a  faint  trail  of  ghostly 
sound,  he  lay  for  a  little  time,  turning  in 
his  bed,  burro^\dng  deeper  into  the  mould. 
It  was  near  the  hour  of  three.  The  si- 
lence was  profound,  save  for  the  palpitant 
chirring  of  myriad  nocturnal  insects  and 
the  whisper  of  the  slow  midsummer  night 
wind  in  the  leafage  overhead.  The  sounds 
lulled  him  like  friendly  voices;  his  senses 
were  cloyed  with  a  delicious  weariness,  and 
T\athout  effort  or  care  he  sank  back  into 
dreamless  sleep. 

35 


3^   The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

When  he  awoke  again  the  world  about 
him  was  briUiant  with  the  glory  of  dawn. 
The  great  river  had  lost  its  midnight  as- 
pect of  terror  and  appeared  as  a  wide  ex- 
panse of  shimmering  gold,  mirroring  the 
beaut}^  of  the  morning.  Throwing  off 
his  clothes  he  leaped  into  the  water, 
swimming  to  the  sand-bar  and  back  again, 
coming  out  upon  the  bank  refreshed  and 
vigorous  and  desperately  hungry-  From 
his  pocket  he  brought  a  small  roll  of  oil- 
skin, securely  wrapped  and  tied,  holding 
a  bundle  of  matches,  and  kindled  a  fire 
of  leaves  and  dried  twigs  against  the  body 
of  a  fallen  log.  The  next  thing  Avas 
breakfast. 

Scores  of  birds  were  in  a  riot  of  song 
in  the  trees  and  undergrowth  near  at 
hand — jays,  thi'ushes,  and  many  others 
whose  names  he  did  not  know.  A  full- 
breasted  lark  perched  upon  a  swaying 
branch  at  the  stream's  edge  close  by, 
tempting  him.  He  raised  his  pistol 
against  it,  but  then,  obeying  a  formless 
impulse,  he  let  the  weapon  fall.     From 


The  Woman  37 

the  same  deep  pocket  he  drew  a  coil  of 
stout  fishing-hne,  furnished  with  a  dozen 
hooks.  With  his  clasp-knife  he  dug  into 
the  crumbling  heart  of  a  rotting  stump 
until  he  had  found  a  handful  of  fat  white 
grubs ;  and  with  these  he  baited  his  hooks, 
then  cast  the  line  into  a  deep,  still  pool 
close  against  the  bank,  fastening  the 
shoreward  end  to  a  bush  and  leaving  it 
to  the  care  of  good  fortune  while  he  pre- 
pared a  bed  of  embers.  He  laughed  as 
he  realised  his  odd  situation. 

"  I  need  a  square  meal,  bad,"  he  said 
aloud,  "  and  all  the  money  I  've  got 
could  n't  buy  one  over  here,  I  reckon.  I 
hope  to  heaven  luck  don't  fool  me." 

Luck  played  him  no  tricks.  When 
his  fire  was  ready  and  he  went  down  to 
look  at  his  line,  he  found  it  drawn  taut, 
cutting  the  water  in  wide,  sweeping 
plunges,  back  and  forth.  He  hauled  in 
upon  it,  hand  over  hand,  and  drew  to 
the  bank  a  huge  catfish.  In  a  few  min- 
utes he  had  thick  steaks  cut  from  the 
firm,   sweet   flesh,    impaled   on   twigs   of 


38    The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

green  hickory  and  set  to  broil  over  the 
coals. 

Never  was  better  breakfast  than  that, 
eaten  at  the  edge  of  the  woodland  in  the 
first  sunlight  of  the  summer  day,  savoured 
only  by  spicy  wood-smoke  and  by  the 
sauce  of  a  lusty  young  appetite.  He  ate 
as  though  he  would  never  get  enough, 
slice  after  slice,  stepping  dowTi  to  the 
river  bank  sometimes  to  dip  up  the  cool 
water  in  the  hollow  of  his  doubled  hands, 
drinking  deeply  and  washing  his  eyes  free 
of  the  smart  of  the  smoke. 

His  meal  was  still  far  from  ended 
when  he  heard  a  movement  in  the  under- 
wood on  the  hillside  above,  dra\^dng 
nearer;  and  a  stalwart  young  Indian  ap- 
peared, naked  to  the  waist,  wearing  only 
rawhide  moccasins  and  breeches  of  deer- 
skin. His  face,  brown,  aquiline,  seamed 
even  in  its  youth  by  exposure,  was  grave, 
sombre,  yet  wearing  that  fine  dignity 
which  marks  the  race  born  in  untram- 
melled freedom  and  suckled  at  the  breast 
of    the    good    earth,    but    which    passes 


The  Woman  39 

quickly  into  bestial  grossness  once  the 
race  has  so  much  as  touched  the  hem  of 
the  garment  of  civilisation.  This  man 
was  still  a  wildling;  a  beautiful  figure, 
lithe,  erect,  calm,  but  with  an  air  upon 
him  of  deep  melancholy;  for  he  was  of 
the  Omahas,  the  tribe  that  had  just  been 
led  into  reluctant  surrender  of  its  lands 
to  the  white  invaders.  A  little  longer 
and  the  Omahas  would  be  driven  to  find 
a  new  home. 

The  man's  sudden  appearance  gave 
Mark  a  momentary  uneasiness;  but  that 
feeling  passed  directly;  for,  seeing  what 
Mark  was  about,  the  Indian  came  closer, 
sitting  down  cross-legged  beside  the  fire 
and  showing  by  a  sign  that  he  would 
join  in  the  meal.  Mark  laughed  again, 
lightly,  over  the  humour  of  it. 

"Say,  whose  treat  is  this,  anyway?" 
he  said.  "Am  I  your  company  or  are 
you  mine?  But  it  don't  matter  much,  so 
long  as  there 's  enough  to  go  'round." 
Willingly  he  gave  a  generous  portion  of 
the  broiled  fish  to  the  Omaha,  who  ate 


40   The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

hungrily,  while  Mark  went  on  with  his 
own  breakfast,  keeping  an  unfailing  sup- 
ply over  the  coals. 

No  further  word  was  spoken  while  they 
ate;  there  seemed  to  be  no  need,  for  with- 
out speech  they  held  perfect  communion 
of  understanding.  When  the  Indian  had 
finished,  he  sat  for  a  time  motionless, 
regarding  Mark  with  steadfast  eyes;  then 
in  unbroken  silence  he  arose  abruptly 
and  disappeared  amongst  the  trees. 

Mark  waited  only  to  roll  up  his  fishing- 
line  before  he  set  off  for  the  scene  of  the 
new  day's  action,  at  the  ferry-crossing 
above.  His  night's  swim  had  carried  him 
for  a  long  distance  down-stream,  and  the 
walk  back  was  hard,  leading  over  steep, 
rough  hills,  and  through  pathless  tangles 
of  bush  and  vine.  But  he  came  at  last  to 
the  summit  of  a  bolder  crest  and  looked 
down  upon  the  broad,  shining  ribbon  of 
the  river,  with  Council  Bluffs  showing 
faint  in  the  distance  through  the  morning 
haze  that  was  over  the  water,  and  below, 
seeming  almost  at  his  feet  on  the  western 


The  Woman  41 

shore,  the  rude  beginning  of  the  new 
Omaha  City. 

A  bare  half-dozen  log  huts  stood  at 
wide  intervals  and  without  order  on  the 
level  bench  of  land  above  the  river-bottom ; 
these  made  the  town.  The  axe  had  not 
yet  touched  the  thick  growths  of  tim- 
ber that  began  with  the  first  uplift  of  the 
hill-slopes;  far  as  the  eye  could  see  there 
was  no  least  mark  of  husbandry.  Yet 
the  scene  held  a  mighty  meaning;  it  was 
the  first  budding  of  that  conquest  which 
was  destined  to  sweep,  in  fire  and  blood 
and  passion,  over  the  full,  vast  breadth 
of  the  wilderness.  Across  the  narrow 
bench-land,  and  winding  sinuously,  away 
amongst  the  hills  to  the  westward,  ran  the 
line  of  the  Great  Salt  Lake  Trail,  a  mere 
thread  of  dusty  grey  against  the  vivid 
green  of  the  plain,  fainter  and  fainter, 
and  melting  from  sight  into  the  heart  of 
the  unmeasured  distances. 

Although  it  was  hardly  more  than  an 
hour  past  sunrise,  already  many  people 
had  crossed  from  the  Iowa  shore ;  the  clear 


42   The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

spaces  in  the  village  were  dotted  with 
their  white-covered  waggons,  strewn  with 
their  belongings,  quick  with  their  eager 
movements  as  they  went  about,  recon- 
noitring. The  clumsy  ferry-barge  was  in 
mid-stream,  its  deck  sunk  nearly  to  the 
water's  edge  beneath  its  load  of  waggons, 
beasts,  and  men  coming  to  join  those  on 
the  Nebraska  side.  On  the  trail,  near  the 
river,  a  score  of  waggons  were  drawn  up 
in  line,  headed  westward,  making  ready 
to  begin  the  long  journey  across  the 
plains;  and  as  Mark  looked,  other  wag- 
gons were  crawling  slowly  in  toward  this 
centre  from  many  directions,  to  take  their 
places  in  the  hne. 

As  Mark  walked  down  and  moved 
about  from  camp  to  camp,  looking  on,  his 
first  elation  of  the  morning  was  oddly 
tempered  by  dismay.  His  own  part  in 
the  great  drama  that  was  acting  itself  out 
before  his  eyes  was  not  yet  fixed ;  strength 
or  weakness,  victory  or  failure — these 
were  as  yet  no  more  than  words  in  the 
unread    lines.      The    enthusiasm    of    the 


The  Woman  43 

home-makers  was  alien  to  his  present 
temper.  There  was  no  reason  why  he 
should  think  of  a  home;  he  must  do  other 
things  first — make  a  place  for  himself  in 
affairs  and  get  on  speaking  terms  with 
his  fate.  For  two  long  hours  he  loitered, 
seeing  no  familiar  face,  the  sense  of  his 
isolation  growing. 

Then  suddenly  he  came  upon  Cannon 
— ^big,  healthful,  red  of  beard  and  blood, 
radiant  with  the  glow  of  bodily  action. 
He  had  made  camp  at  the  edge  of  the 
woods  behind  the  town,  by  the  side  of  a 
tiny  stream,  and  had  at  once  given  him- 
self a  task.  Even  at  this  early  hour  a 
dozen  trees  had  been  felled,  the  trimmed 
trunks  dragged  together,  the  branches 
and  undergrowth  piled  high  for  burning. 
A  canvas-covered  prairie  waggon,  heavily 
laden,  stood  near  by,  and  mules  were  graz- 
ing in  the  thick  pasturage  beside  the  rivu- 
let. Cannon,  hatless  and  coatless,  his 
flannel  shirt  wet  with  sweat  from  neck  to 
waist,  was  swinging  his  axe  with  all  his 
vigour  against  a  stalwart  elm,  scattering 


44   The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

a  wide  shower  of  chips;  and  his  wife 
moved  contentedly  about  the  camp, 
cheery,  housewifely,  seeming  perfectly  at 
home  with  only  the  open  sky  for  a  roof 
and  the  hills  for  walls. 

When  the  tree  fell,  Cannon  paused  for 
a  time,  seating  himself  upon  the  prostrate 
trunk,  wiping  the  sweat  from  his  hot  face 
upon  the  sleeve  of  his  shirt.  Then  he 
caught  sight  of  Mark,  who  stood  apart  at 
a  little  distance. 

"Hello,  there,  Bailey!"  he  called  in 
hearty,  thunderous  greeting.  "  I  've  been 
wondering  about  you.  Where  you  been? 
Come  over  here  an'  sit  down.  You  ain't 
hardly  made  camp  anywhere,  have  you? 
Well,  this  one  's  yours,  till  you  find  some- 
thing better.  Dinner  '11  be  comin'  along, 
after  a  while;  a  young  turkey — shot  it 
first  thing  after  I  got  up  here.  Say, 
Molly,  this  is  young  Bailey,  that  I  was 
tellin'  you  about ;  him  that 's  goin'  to  be 
with  the  outfit.  Throw  in  some  dinner 
for  him,  will  you  ?  " 

She  gave  Mark  a  frank  welcome,  offer- 


The  Woman  45 

ing  her  hand — a  large,  firm,  strong  hand, 
whose  pressure  was  warm,  satisfying. 
There  was  a  comfortable  sort  of  grace 
about  her,  and  the  promise  of  an  unusual 
capability — the  power  to  meet  serenely 
and  to  triumph  over  the  hard  facts  of 
practical  living.  Those  were  the  quali- 
ties of  the  best  of  the  pioneer  women  of 
the  West.  Meeting  the  kindly  glance 
of  her  eyes,  feeling  the  kindly  touch  of 
her  hand,  INIark  warmed  to  her  instinct- 
ively, knowing  that  he  had  found  a 
friend. 

She  spoke  a  word  or  two  of  quiet,  hos- 
pitable commonplace,  then  went  on  with 
her  w^ork,  while  Mark  seated  himself  at 
Cannon's  side  upon  the  trunk  of  the 
fallen  tree. 

"  You  've  begun  to  do  things  in  a 
hurry,"  he  hinted,  as  his  glance  wandered 
about  the  little  clearing,  that  had  already 
subtly  gathered  something  of  the  atmos- 
phere of  home. 

"This?"  Cannon  returned,  with  an 
inclusive  gesture.     "  Oh,  I  'm  just  killin' 


46   The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

time  with  this,  till  we  get  ready  to  pull 
out  west.  I  never  was  one  that  could 
set  an'  wiggle  my  thumbs  while  I  'm  wait- 
in'  ;  I  've  got  to  be  doin'  somethin'  busy. 
There  's  a  month  yet,  anyway ;  an'  this  '11 
pay  fii'st-rate.  Land  's  sure  to  be  worth 
a  heap  around  here,  when  things  get  to 
goin'.  Lemme  tell  you  this,  Bailey:  the 
way  to  stack  up  a  winner  out  here  is  to 
miss  no  chances.  You  want  to  keep  your 
eyes  peeled  an'  busy  every  minute,  an' 
whenever  you  see  a  chance  stick  its  head 
up,  hop  onto  it,  all  spraddled  out,  an' 
grab  hold  of  it  with  both  hands  an'  all  the 
teeth  you  got,  an'  hold  on.  See?  Say, 
why  don't  you  do  like  I  'm  doin,'  an'  pick 
you  out  a  claim?  Get  a  piece  o'  land,  and 
put  up  a  shack  on  it,  like  I  'm  doin',  an' 
you  '11  feel  like  you  'd  kind  o'  struck  root, 
this  side  the  river.  Here  's  this  piece 
right  west  o'  mine,  that  nobody 's  took 
yet.  You  could  n't  do  better,"  he  added, 
with  his  big,  wholesome  laugh.  "  Fine 
climate,  right  on  the  creek,  an'  good 
neighbours.     What  more  do  you  want? 


The  Woman  47 

Come  on;  T  '11  show  you  how  to  stake  it 
out." 

JNIark  echoed  his  laugh,  but  a  little 
doubtfully.  "  I  don't  know  anything 
about  making  a  claim,"  he  demurred. 

"Well,  learn!"  Cannon  retorted. 
"  That 's  what  we  're  here  for.  There  's 
no  land-office  open  yet;  but  get  j'^our 
stakes  drove,  an'  start  to  doin'  things,  like 
you  belonged  there,  an'  nobody  '11  bother 
you.  We  've  got  to  respect  each  other's 
rights,  or  the  thing  won't  hang  together. 
Get  you  an  axe  out  o'  my  waggon  an' 
come  ahead ;  we  '11  cut  your  stakes  up  the 
creek  a  ways." 

INIark  followed  the  giant's  impetuous 
lead,  because  he  could  not  help  it;  Can- 
non's brusque  enthusiasm  dominated 
him,  making  it  seem  that  his  own  will  was 
turned  blunt  at  the  edge  and  of  only 
minor  service.  When  at  noontime  he  sat 
down  to  share  the  outdoor  dinner  at  Can- 
non's camp,  the  stakes  were  already  set 
that  made  him  a  landholder,  and  the  day 
had  gained  a  new  zest.     The  meal,  served 


48   The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

upon  the  ground  in  primitive,  homely 
fashion,  was  prolonged  far  beyond  the 
time  needful,  while  they  talked.  Cannon 
knew  no  more  of  the  future  than  did 
]\Iark,  but  there  was  a  quality  in  his  ro- 
bust will  which  had  almost  the  force  and 
virtue  of  prescience. 

"  There  's  everything  to  do  yet,"  he  de- 
clared. "  There 's  towns  to  build,  hke 
this  one  '11  be,  clear  from  here  to  the  coast, 
an'  freightin'  to  do,  like  the  scheme  we  've 
started,  an'  army  contracts,  for  them 
soldiers  out  on  the  plains  yonder- — every- 
thing like  that.  There  '11  be  thousands 
an'  thousands  of  people  in  the  country  by 
next  year,  soon  as  they  hear  what  it 's 
like,  an'  somebodj^  's  got  to  feed  'em  an' 
do  for  'em.  That 's  where  we  win  by 
bein'  here  first.  I  should  n't  wonder  if 
sometime  there  'd  be  a  railroad,  an'  some- 
body 's  got  to  build  it.  Somebody  's  got 
to  do  everything  that 's  done.  Do  you 
see?  All  you  need  is  to  stay  awake  an* 
keep  your  nerve  healthy." 

While  they  lingered,   Forrester  came 


The  Woman  49 

sauntering  leisurely  up  to  the  camp.  If 
the  morning  had  held  its  doubts  or  puz- 
zles for  him,  they  had  left  no  mark  upon 
him;  his  manner  was  that  of  an  unruffled, 
amused  composure.  A  change  had  come 
to  him  since  the  night  before;  the  effects 
of  his  whiskey  were  gone,  and  the  change 
for  the  better  was  very  marked. 

"  Hello,  Mark!  "  he  said.  "  What  be- 
came of  you?  When  did  you  come 
over? " 

"  Last  night,"  ]\Iark  laughed.  "  I 
swam." 

"  Swam ! "  Forrester  echoed,  incred- 
ulous. "  Swam  the  Missouri — at  mid- 
night, and  midsummer  high  water?  But 
I  believe  you!  "  He  threw  himself  at  his 
length  upon  the  grass  in  the  grateful 
shadow  of  the  elms,  his  arms  and  legs 
outstretched,  his  fine  face  alight.  "  My 
soul!  what's  got  into  all  the  people?" 
he  cried.  "Are  you  all  moonstruck? 
When  I  got  awake  this  morning,  there 
sat  Frick  with  his  maps — busy.  I  tried 
to  find  Cannon,  to  loaf  with  him  awhile. 


50    The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

and  he  'd  been  over  here  for  an  hour. 
There  was  n't  a  man  at  the  Bluffs  that 
could  spare  the  time  to  sit  down  and 
smoke  with  me.  It 's  even  worse  on  this 
side ;  everybody 's  in  a  tearing,  mad 
hurry.  And  now  you  tell  me  you  swam 
the  river  in  the  middle  of  the  night.  For 
what?  What  is  it  you  're  all  trying 
to  do?" 

It  was  Mrs.  Cannon's  smooth,  com- 
fortable voice  that  answered. 

"Aren't  you  asking  too  much,  when 
you  ask  them  to  explain?  I  don't  sup- 
pose they  could.  Not  many  people 
know  what  they  're  really  trying  to  do." 

Forrester  turned  to  her  with  his  frank, 
engaging  smile.  "  You  mean  that  it 's 
destiny?"  he  returned.  "Maybe  it  is; 
but  if  it  is,  destiny  's  no  friend  of  mine. 
I  can't  understand  why  destiny  must  al- 
ways make  folks  excited  and  noisy,  in- 
stead of  letting  them  be  decent  and  quiet 
and  restful.  That 's  so  much  nicer,  Mrs. 
Cannon." 

Cannon      snorted      with      impatience. 


The  Woman  51 

"Anybody  'd  know  from  that,"  he 
growled,  "  that  you  ain't  struck  a  hck  all 
morning." 

"  I  have  n't  struck  a  lick  all  morning," 
Forrester  agreed  imperturbably.  "  I  'm 
not  going  to  strike  a  lick  all  afternoon, 
nor  to-morrow,  nor  the  next  day.  Why 
should  I  strike  hcks?  I  'm  opposed  to 
striking  licks.  It  overheats  the  blood,  for 
one  thing ;  and  then  I  might  make  a  miss- 
lick  and  knock  down  something  that  some- 
body else  would  rather  not  have  knocked 
down.     Don't  you  see?  " 

Cannon  was  pulling  at  his  beard  and 
regarding  the  boy  with  a  puzzled  frown. 
"  I  msh  somebody  'd  tell  me  what 
made  you  come  to  this  country,"  he 
said. 

"And  I  wish  they  'd  tell  mef'  Forrester 
retorted.  "  I  don't  know.  I  thought  at 
first  it  was  the  chance  of  getting  some 
more  money  that  brought  me,  but  I  know 
better.  I  don't  want  any  more  money. 
I  did  n't  come  for  amusement ;  I  don't  hke 
my  amusements  quite  so  raw.     I  guess 


52    The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

I  just  blew  out  because  the  wind  was  set- 
ting this  way." 

But  this  inconsequent  hghtness  of  mood 
was  put  aside  a  Httle  later,  when  he  and 
Bailey  had  separated  from  Cannon  and 
were  walking  toward  the  scene  of  Mark's 
afternoon  labour.  Then  Forrester  said, 
in  perfect  seriousness: 

"  I  wonder  if  I  'm  as  much  of  a  fool  as 
I  think  I  am.  If  that 's  so,  it 's  a  despe- 
rate case.  Mark,  I  'd  give  half  of  what 
I  Ve  got  if  I  could  find  out  what 's  the 
matter  with  me.  There's  something 
wrong.  To  save  my  poor  soul,  I  can't 
get  up  any  enthusiasm  about  anything. 
I  can't  lose  myself  in  anything  I  do  or 
I  don't  beheve  I  ever  had  any.  I  thought 
think.  I  have  n't  worn  out  my  emotions ; 
it  would  be  different  out  here,  maybe;  but 
it  isn't.  This  thing  seems  so  wonder- 
fully real  and  worth  while  to  you  and 
Cannon  and  Frick  and  all  the  rest.  It 
does  n't  to  me.  I  don't  care  a  damn  for 
it,  and  I  wish  I  had  n't  come." 

Mark   regarded   his   friend   curiously. 


The  Woman  53 

only  half  understanding,  and  wholly  un- 
able to  sympathise.  His  own  healthy 
soul  knew  no  such  disorder. 

"  I  reckon  you  '11  find  something  real 
enough  to  think  about  when  we  get  out 
on  the  trail,"  he  hinted. 

"  Trail!  "  Forrester  echoed  with  a  mild 
disgust.  "  I  'm  not  going  west  with  the 
outfit.  There  's  nothing  that  would  hire 
me  to  spend  months  in  the  middle  of  that 
big  waste.  I  'd  lose  what  little  mind  I  've 
got.  I  'm  going  to  stay  down  here, 
where  I  can  make  a  pretence  of  looking 
after  the  company's  interests  along  the 
river,  and  where  I  can  keep  comfortably 
drunk."  He  broke  off  with  a  short  laugh 
that  was  quite  without  mirth.  "  Drunk !  " 
he  repeated.  "  God  bless  the  man  who 
found  out  whiskey!  Don't  look  so  scared. 
I  tell  you,  whiskey  has  floated  me  through 
some  bad  days.  It 's  given  me  the  only 
understanding  I  've  ever  had  of  how  I 
think  a  man  ought  to  feel.  If  I  can  man- 
age to  keep  just  about  so  much  whiskey 
circulating  in  me,  without  letting  it  die 


54  The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

out,  I  can  ahnost  forget  what  a  farce  my 
life  is." 

They  had  reached  the  spot  which  Can- 
non had  suggested  for  the  site  of  the 
cabin,  and  while  he  listened  Mark  was 
preparing  to  begin  his  work.  Forrester 
took  the  axe  from  his  hand  and  swamg  it 
awkwardly,  until  with  laborious  effort  he 
had  felled  one  of  the  smaller  saplings. 
Then,  hot  and  short  of  breath,  he  let  the 
axe  drop. 

"  I  suppose  that 's  what  Cannon  calls 
*  striking  a  lick,' "  he  said,  with  evi- 
dent distaste.  "No,  thank  you;  that's 
enough  for  me." 

He  lay  down  again  upon  the  grass, 
made  himself  lazily  comfortable,  and  fell 
easily  asleep,  while  IVIark  set  to  his  task 
with  vigour.  He  was  almost  a  stranger 
to  the  ways  of  woodcraft,  and  inexpert 
with  his  tools ;  but  his  bodily  strength  was 
great,  and  he  found  an  unsuspected  sat- 
isfaction in  the  new  use  of  that  strength 
toward  a  definite  end.  His  future  might 
be  uncertain,  but  tliis  day  amply  sufficed 


The  Woman  55 

unto  itself.  When  Forrester  awoke,  at 
the  end  of  the  afternoon,  he  saw  a  goodly 
pile  of  logs,  trimmed  and  hewn  for 
building. 

"  Have  you  done  all  that,  while  I  've 
been  asleep?"  Forrester  queried.  "And 
you've  enjoyed  it  too,  I  suppose?  Oh, 
it 's  no  use,  Mark,  I  've  got  in  clear  be- 
j^ond  my  depth.     I  don't  belong  here." 

They  ate  their  supper  at  Cannon's 
camp,  and  afterward,  though  bodily 
weariness  weighed  heavily  upon  Mark, 
he  walked  with  Forrester  do^vn  to  the 
teeming  centre  of  the  new  town,  where 
the  people  were  relaxing  a  little  after  the 
tension  of  the  day.  Fires  were  shining 
here  and  there,  and  folk  were  gathered 
about  them,  talking,  laughing,  singing, 
meeting  with  one  another  on  terms  of  a 
fine,  free  intimacy.  There  was  a  daunt- 
less optimism  upon  them;  the  atmos- 
phere was  that  of  .a  holiday,  rather  than 
a  day  of  grave  portent.  They  knew  well 
enough  that  their  ways  were  to  be  hard, 
yet  they   faced  the   knowledge   with   an 


56   The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

exultant  courage.  Watching  their  faces, 
catching  stray  scraps  of  their  talk,  touch- 
ing elbows,  as  it  were,  with  their  indomi- 
table spirit,  he  felt  for  them  a  strong  and 
abiding  kinship. 

He  and  Forrester  did  not  offer  to  join 
any  of  the  groups,  though  a  welcome 
awaited  them  everywhere,  but  were  con- 
tent with  the  part  of  onlookers,  passing 
slowly  onward  toward  the  river  front, 
where  the  newer  arrivals  were  gathered, 
making  such  shift  as  they  could  to  meet 
the  oncoming  night.  There  ^lark  halted 
suddenly,  and  his  heart  quickened  its 
beat;  for  his  ej^es  were  resting  upon  the 
face  of  the  woman  he  had  seen  asleep, 
the  night  before,  on  the  Iowa  shore — the 
face  which  had  hovered  over  him,  a  new 
constellation,  as  he  lay  in  his  own  bed 
under  the  trees. 

She  was  walking  slowly  back  and  forth 
beside  the  camp-fire,  carr^'^ing  in  her  arms 
a  fretful  child,  crooning  a  soft  lullabj'-, 
trying  to  hush  the  babe  to  sleep.  About 
her  was  the  disorder  of  a  new-made  camp ; 


The  Woman  57 

cooking  utensils  were  scattered  near  the 
fire,  with  the  remains  of  the  recent  sup- 
per. Save  for  the  httle  creature  held 
against  her  breast,  the  girl  was  alone. 

Each  time  she  passed  the  fire  there  was 
a  brief  moment  when  her  fair  face  was 
touched  and  illumined  by  the  ruddy  glow, 
thrown  into  rehef  like  an  exquisite  cameo 
against  the  background  of  darkness. 
Mark  stood  for  a  little  time,  his  hand 
upon  Forrester's  arm  to  detain  him,  his 
eyes  intent  upon  her,  waiting  eagerly, 
impatiently,  for  each  next  succeeding  in- 
stant's revelation  of  her  gentle  sweetness; 
and  as  he  watched,  again  his  thoughts 
were  suffused  with  tenderness. 

"  Wait  a  minute,  Jack,"  he  said,  after 
a  time,  and  stepped  quietly  to  her  side. 
"  You  have  more  than  j^our  share,"  he 
said  softly.  "Let  me  take  the  baby;  I 
can  quiet  him." 

She  turned  to  face  him,  a  little  startled, 
raising  her  beautiful,  calm  eyes  to  his. 
"  It 's  the  way,  out  here,  to  help  each 
other,"  he  went  on,  trying  to  be  very  mat- 


58   The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

ter-of-fact;  but  in  the  very  next  breath 
his  feeHng  was  not  so  well  restrained. 
"  You  don't  know  me;  but  I  feel  almost 
as  though  we  were  acquainted.  I  saw 
you,  last  night,  over  at  the  Bluffs,  and  I 
wondered  if  I  should  ever  see  j^ou  again." 

Her  glance  fell  at  that,  and  a  sudden 
warm  flush  of  embarrassment  came  to 
her  cheeks.  But  she  did  not  resist  when 
he  put  out  his  strong  arms  for  the  child. 
The  downy  little  head  fell  at  once  against 
his  broad  shoulder,  and  the  fretful  cry 
ceased  with  a  long  sigh.  The  girl's  mo- 
mentary air  of  confusion  passed,  and  she 
smiled  with  frank  relief  as  she  put  up  her 
small  hands  to  brush  back  from  her  fore- 
head the  curling  masses  of  her  gold-brown 
hair. 

"  I  was  n't  afraid  of  you,"  she  said,  her 
smile  persisting,  her  voice  soft  and  rich 
and  tranquil.  "  I  'm  not  yet  used  to 
your  goodness,  here  in  the  new  country; 
that 's  all.  There  is  such  a  lot  to  do ! " 
she  added,  with  a  half-hopeless  glance 
around  the  confusion  of  the  camp.     "  The 


The  Woman  59 

baby's  mother  went  with  her  husband,  af- 
ter supper,  to  look  about  a  Httle  and  get 
ready  for  to-morrow,  and  my  brother 
has  n't  come  over  the  river  yet." 

"Your  brother?"  Mark  echoed;  and 
there  came  to  his  memory  the  image  of 
the  dark-browed,  sinister  face  of  the  man 
who  had  appHed  to  Cannon  for  work  the 
night  before,  at  the  Boltwood  store.  He 
had  said  something  about  his  sister. 
"  Tell  me,  is  your  name  Braidlaw?  "  Mark 
asked  abruptly. 

"  Yes,"  the  girl  answered,  a  note  of 
surprise  in  her  voice. 

"And  you're  going  to  California?" 

"  Yes,"  she  said  again,  her  eyes  search- 
ing his  face,  a  little  mystified;  then,  with 
a  manner  that  was  an  unabashed  chal- 
lenge to  friendliness :  "  Why,  you  know 
ever  so  much  more  about  me  than  I  do 
about  you." 

He  was  not  skilful  at  fence.  "  ]My 
name  is  jNIark  Bailey,"  he  told  her  di- 
rectly. "  I  'm  one  of  the  new  ones — I 
only  got  here  yesterday.  I  saw  your  bro- 


6o  The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

ther  last  night,  over  yonder.  That 's 
how  I  knew  your  name  and  where  you  're 
going.     It 's  a  long  way." 

"  Yes,"  she  answered,  and  stood  look- 
ing pensively  toward  the  line  of  the  low- 
lying  hills,  vaguely  defined  against  the 
western  sky.  "A  long  way,"  she  said,  after 
a  moment.  "  It  makes  me  almost  afraid, 
it 's  so  big  and  so  lonely — '  a  weary  land  '  : 
do  you  remember?  I  wonder  if  we  shall 
find  '  the  shadow  of  a  great  rock  '  there." 

Her  emotion  was  strong  upon  her. 
She  turned  abruptly  awaj'-  toward  the  fire 
and  began  to  busy  herself  with  the 
scattered  supper  things.  Mark  had  for- 
gotten Forrester  for  the  time;  but  now 
the  boy  strolled  up  to  the  fire,  his  hands 
deep  in  his  pockets,  his  face  alight  with 
its  amused,  half -cynical  smile. 

"  You  've  found  a  use  for  yourself, 
INIark,  as  usual,"  he  said.  "  And  I  'm 
the  bj^stander — as  usual,  too.  I  'm  worn 
out  mth  being  merely  decorative  all  day. 
I  think  I  '11  go  over  the  river  and  go  to 
bed.     Good-night." 


The  Woman  6i 

He  had  spoken  as  though  to  Mark 
alone,  yet  there  was  something  indefin- 
able in  the  manner  of  the  sj^eech  which 
made  it  include  the  girl.  At  the  last  he 
withdrew  his  hands  from  his  pockets  and 
bared  his  head,  then  turned  to  face  her 
directly  for  an  instant,  with  a  slow  in- 
clination of  his  lithe  young  body,  his  fine 
eyes  meeting  hers  and  holding  them  as  he 
passed.  In  another  man  the  action  would 
have  been  formal,  constrained;  in  him  it 
seemed  no  more  than  a  natural  and  gentle 
deference,  which  her  very  presence  com- 
pelled. She  acknowledged  it  with  a 
grave,  calm  grace,  and  Mark  saw  that 
her  glance  followed  him  with  an  inquir- 
ing interest  as  he  loitered  lazily  away  to- 
ward the  river. 

The  babe  was  sleeping  soundly  in 
Mark's  arms.  "  You  can  put  him  down 
now,"  the  girl  said;  and  Mark  laid  the 
little  body  in  its  nest  of  blankets  within 
the  shelter  of  the  M^aggon.  She  bent  and 
touched  the  flushed  cheek  gently  with  her 
lips. 


62   The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

"  His  mother  has  been  good  to  me,"  she 
said.  "  We  came  with  these  people  from 
IlHnois;  but  they  will  stay  here,  and  we 
must  find  some  other  way  to  go  on.  We 
haven't  found  it  yet;  but  we  shall." 

A  hundred  questions  were  crowding  to 
Mark's  lips,  but  before  one  of  them  was 
spoken  Braidlaw  came  to  the  camp.  As 
on  the  preceding  night,  when  Mark  had 
first  seen  him,  there  was  that  in  the  man's 
heavy,  sensual  face  which  forbade  liking 
— not  traces  of  past  evil,  but  signs  of  ca- 
pacity for  evil.  The  feeling  did  not 
wholly  pass  when  Braidlaw  met  his  sister 
with  a  smile  which  curiously  softened  the 
gross  lines.  Before  he  took  account  of 
Mark's  presence,  he  answered  her  un- 
spoken but  evident  anxiety. 

"Not  yet,  Dorothy;  but  don't  let  it 
worry  you.  I  'm  sure  to  find  something 
with  all  this  travel." 

There  was  a  brief  interval  of  silence, 
while  the  girl  seemed  to  be  waiting  for 
some  sign  of  that  acquaintance  between 
the  two  men  of  which  Mark  had  spoken. 


The  Woman  63 

After  a  moment  JNIark  offered  Braidlaw 
his  hand. 

"  My  name  's  Bailey,"  he  said.  "  I  be- 
long to  the  Forrester  outfit.  You  were 
talking  to  us  last  night  at  Council  Bluffs 
about  going  west." 

Braidlaw's  smile  was  gone,  and  his 
black  ej^es  were  fixed  upon  Mark  with 
their  habitual  hard,  disconcerting  stare- 

"  I  remember,"  he  said  dully.  "  You 
would  n't  give  me  what  I  wanted." 

"  It  was  n't  so  bad  as  that,  was  it? " 
Mark  laughed.  "  We  're  not  ready  yet, 
that 's  all.  I  'm  only  one  of  the  smaller 
partners ;  but  if  you  're  still  here  when  we 
take  the  trail  I  think  we  may  fix  it. 
We  '11  need  a  lot  of  men." 

"  I  hope  so,"  Braidlaw  answered, 
quite  without  feeling,  and  Mark  turned 
to  the  girl  with  a  grateful  sense  of 
relief. 

"  I  must  go  now,"  he  said ;  then,  with 
sudden  daring:  "  I  'm  not  going  to  won- 
der about  it  this  time ;  I  know  we  '11  meet 
again." 


64   The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

They  were  big,  hardy,  brave  days  that 
followed;  days  tense  with  purpose,  quick 
with  activity.  Much  was  to  be  done,  and 
at  first  thought  the  means  seemed  poor. 
Government  by  rule  and  statute  in  the 
new  land  was  still  far  ahead — an  end  to 
be  attained  som.e  time,  when  bigger  things 
were  out  of  the  way.  For  the  present, 
better  than  any  code  of  laws  was  the 
stanch  spirit  of  a  people  firmly  bound  to- 
gether by  the  cords  of  common  interest, 
common  dependence,  and  common  honour. 
Had  there  been  time  to  doubt,  the  doubt- 
ers might  well  have  been  alarmed  for  the 
safety  of  a  society  whose  only  tie  was  the 
native  integrity  of  the  race;  but  all  were 
busy  with  other  things  than  fear,  and  so 
the  fabric  held,  strong,  effectual.  Rude 
honesty  was  practised;  rude  justice  was 
done;  and  that  was  enough.  If  any  hun- 
gered, he  was  fed ;  if  any  mourned,  he  was 
comforted;  no  man  was  permitted  to  feel 
himself  a  stranger.  Those  were  the  best 
days  the  West  has  ever  knoAMi. 

IMark  threw  himself  heart  and  soul  into 


The  Woman  65 

his  new  hfe.  Day  by  day  his  confidence 
grew,  as  it  was  fed  by  definite  accomphsh- 
ment.  Log  by  log  the  walls  of  his  cabin 
were  rising,  and  his  tiny  clearing  was  be- 
coming an  orderly  nook  in  the  wide  chaos. 
Often  he  would  forsake  this  labour  of  his 
own  to  give  aid  to  Frick,  upon  whom,  as 
by  common  consent,  the  details  of  the 
freighting  enterprise  rested.  All  was 
going  well,  Frick  declared,  and  the  wag- 
gons would  be  westward  bound  by  the 
beginning  of  September. 

Through  these  golden  days  Forrester 
was  INIark's  constant  companion.  In  no 
degree  was  his  own  indolent  indifference 
stirred  by  what  he  saw  going  forward;  it 
was  his  need  for  friendship,  more  than 
any  interest  in  their  concerns,  which  at- 
tached him  to  ]Mark. 

"  I  'm  watching  the  show,  that 's  all," 
he  said  once.  "  I  've  watched  lots  of 
others,  and  I  know  this  one  's  no  more 
real  than  those ;  but  the  acting  's  pretty 
good,  and  I  guess  I  'm  getting  my 
money's  worth." 
5 


66    The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

So  while  Mark  worked  he  loitered  some- 
where near,  sleeping  on  the  grass  or 
filling  the  intervals  of  labour  with  his  in- 
consequent talk. 

Desire  first,  and  then  desire  strength- 
ened by  habit,  took  Mark  for  a  little  time 
each  evening  to  the  camp  where  Dorothy 
Braidlaw  was;  and  those  brief  meetings 
seemed  to  round  the  days  to  completeness. 
Bej^ond  that,  he  could  not  have  told  his 
feeling  for  her  if  he  w^ould.  He  did  not 
try,  even  to  himself;  with  such  as  he,  self- 
scrutiny  is  rare.  All  he  knew  was  that 
each  night  when  he  went  to  her  he  was 
given  some  new  token  of  her  sweetness 
and  strength  and  courage,  over  which  he 
might  brood  tenderly,  happily,  through 
the  robust  hours  of  the  succeeding  day, 
while  he  laboured  with  axe  and  maul, 
growing  impatient  for  the  day  to  end  and 
bring  their  next  meeting.  To  a  man  of 
his  make,  love  does  not  come  by  taking 
thought ;  it  was  to  come  to  him  in  the  ful- 
ness of  time,  as  an  awakening — as  a  sud- 
den, sweet  sui'prise  of  the  soul,  when  it 


The  Woman  67 

had  woven  itself  into  every  fibre  of  his 
hfe  and  youth.  And  while  the  mystery 
of  love  was  working  itself  out,  by  those 
rules  which  no  man  knows,  every  new  dis- 
closure she  gave  him  was  a  new  delight, 
every  thought  of  her  a  profound  joy. 

Quite  as  a  matter  of  course  Forrester 
was  Mark's  companion  when  these  meet- 
ings began,  but  his  own  part  in  them 
seemed  slight.  He  was  not  often  a 
sharer  in  the  intimate  evening  talk  of  the 
camp;  he  was  for  the  most  part  content 
to  sit  lazily  at  his  ease  by  the  fire,  smoking 
in  silence — listening,  perhaps,  though  he 
gave  no  sign. 

Then  one  night  toward  mid- August 
the  two  sat  before  the  door  of  Mark's 
cabin.  The  glory  of  summer  moonlight 
was  about  them,  the  warm  air  astir  with 
murmurous  life.  A  long  silence  had 
fallen  between  the  friends,  while  Forres- 
ter pulled  fitfully  at  his  pipe  and  Mark's 
eyes  were  fixed  upon  a  tiny  spot  of  light 
amongst  the  camp-fires  in  the  valley  be- 
low, marking  the  place  where  his  thoughts 


68   The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

were.  Often  during  the  days,  when  he 
rested  from  his  work,  he  had  searched  out 
that  camp  from  his  hillside;  often  he  had 
watched  its  fire  shine  out  in  the  first 
dusk  of  evening,  until  he  knew  its  place 
amongst  the  others  by  heart.  By  and  by 
he  spoke  suddenly  and  without  warning: 

"Jack,   she's  wonderful!" 

Forrester  stirred  ever  so  slightly  on  his 
bench  and  his  pipe  glowed  ^^dth  his  quick- 
ened breathing,  but  his  silence  was  un- 
broken. It  was  as  though  his  pipe  and 
not  himself  had  heard.  While  he  waited 
for  an  answer,  ^lark  speedily  lost  himself 
again  in  the  mazes  of  his  musings,  and 
forgot  that  he  had  spoken.  Soon  For- 
rester arose  and  went  in  to  bed  without  a 
word.  Mark  forgot  the  incident  too, 
completely;  but  thereafter  Forrester  was 
less  of  an  attendant  shadow  at  his  evening 
meetings  with  Dorothy.  It  would  have 
been  hard  to  tell  that  the  change  was  de- 
liberate. He  was  helping  Frick,  he  said. 
Only  now  and  then  did  he  appear  at  the 
camp. 


The  Woman  69 

The  relation  between  JNIark  and  Braid- 
law  in  those  days  was  of  a  nameless  sort, 
wearing  the  outward  look  of  friendliness, 
fair-spoken  and  smooth-going,  yet,  as 
both  knew,  a  sham — an  intimate  aversion. 
They  had  nothing  in  common.  Mark 
was  willing  enough  to  like  the  fellow;  he 
was  even  persistently  watchful  for  signs 
that  w^ould  justify  liking;  but  the  signs 
were  wanting.  After  a  time,  with  a  show 
of  reluctance,  Braidlaw  had  told  some- 
thing of  his  circumstances.  He  was 
almost  penniless.  Still  with  seeming  re- 
luctance he  had  accepted  a  small  amount 
of  money  which  Mark  offered  to  lend  him; 
and  after  that  beginning  he  came  twice 
of  his  own  accord  to  borrow  more. 

On  the  last  of  these  days  he  appeared 
at  Mark's  cabin,  late  at  night,  frenzied 
with  whiskey. 

"  You  've  got  to  let  me  sleep  here,"  he 
told  Mark,  shaken  with  drunken  fear. 
"  Dorothy  must  n't  see  me  like  this,  or 
there  'd  be  hell  to  pay.  She  's  taking  me 
out   there   to    California   to   reform   me. 


70   The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

Wants  me  to  be  good!  Me!  Under- 
stand? Wants  to  get  me  away  from  all 
my  friends.  She  don't  know  I  'm  drunk. 
I  told  her  I  wouldn't.  Understand?  If 
you  tell  her,  I  '11  kill  you." 

He  threw  himself  upon  the  earthen 
floor  and  fell  into  a  sodden  sleep.  When 
Mark  went  to  his  own  bed,  an  hour  after- 
ward, he  still  lay  in  a  heavy  stupour,  his 
gross  face  purple  and  bloated.  Mark's 
masked  dislike  became  profound  loath- 
ing, and  he  touched  the  insensate  body 
with  his  booted  foot. 

"  You  damned  brute,"  he  muttered. 

When  he  awoke,  in  the  early  dawn, 
Braidlaw's  place  in  the  corner  was  vacant, 
nor  was  he  anywhere  about.  Mark  be- 
gan to  dress  hurriedly,  to  go  in  search  of 
him;  then  stopped  suddenly  as  he  turned 
back  the  corner  of  his  blanket,  where,  ac- 
cording to  habit,  he  had  concealed  his  pis- 
tol and  knife  and  the  oilskin  bag  that  held 
his  money.     They  were  not  there. 

Certainty  of  the  truth  flashed  upon  him, 
chilling    heart    and    mind.     Slowly,    me- 


The  Woman  7^ 

thodically,  he  hfted  and  shook  out  his 
blankets,  one  bj^  one,  folding  them  up 
and  laying  them  in  their  accustomed 
pile.  The  search  was  unavailing;  his 
money  was  gone  with  Braidlaw. 


Ill 

ON   THE   GEE  AT   TRAIL 

jy yi  ARK  hurried  down  the  hill  toward 
^ '  ^  the  town,  dull  anger  possessing 
him,  excluding  eveiy  other  feeling.  He 
had  no  thought  but  that  the  theft  was 
merely  a  drunken  act,  and  that  Braidlaw 
would  be  somewhere  about,  squandering 
the  money  in  further  debauchery. 

But  this  belief  w^as  quickly  dispelled. 
A  little  way  below  his  cabin  he  came  upon 
Cannon,  carrying  a  lariat  and  moving 
aimlessly  through  the  trees  and  thick 
undergrowths. 

"  Hello,"  Cannon  growled  in  gruff 
greeting.  "  You  're  out  early.  Say, 
you  ain't  seen  a  loose  horse  up  your  way 
— that  big  black  I  bought  to  ride  west? 
He  's  gone,  and  I  can't  find  him.  Looks 
bad  to  me.     The  rope  was  plumb  new, 

72 


On  the  Great  Trail  73 

and  it  looks  like  it  had  been  cut.  Besides, 
I  found  this  in  the  grass  by  the  creek." 
And  he  showed  JNIark's  missing  knife. 

Full  conviction  of  what  had  happened 
came  to  Mark  then,  and  hot  words  rose 
to  his  lips;  but  he  choked  them  back  with 
an  effort.  There  would  be  plenty  of 
time  later  for  talking  to  Cannon. 

"  No,"  he  said  simply,  "  I  have  n't 
seen  any  horse.  I  '11  come  back,  after  a 
while,  and  help  you  look."  With  a  mut- 
tered oath  Cannon  turned  to  continue  his 
search,  and  Mark  went  on  his  way  toward 
the  town. 

His  mind  was  blank  of  all  plan  as  to 
what  he  should  do,  bej^ond  an  unreason- 
ing impulse  to  go  first  of  all  to  Dorothy. 
After  the  first  sharp  shock  of  realisation, 
the  thought  of  his  own  loss  had  given 
place  to  thought  of  her.  If  it  was  true 
that  Braidlaw  had  fled,  while  the  madness 
of  drink  was  upon  him,  Mark  had  no 
doubt  that  he  had  gone  alone. 

At  the  camp  onty  Dorothy  was  astir, 
beginning  the  preparation  of  breakfast. 


74   The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

She  saw  Mark  while  he  was  still  at  a  little 
distance,  and  she  dropped  her  work,  wait- 
ing until  he  stood  before  her.  A  deep 
pallor  was  upon  her  cheeks,  and  her  eyes 
were  heavy  with  anxiety,  which  grew  into 
fear  as  her  glance  searched  his  face.  Be- 
fore a  word  was  spoken  she  was  trem- 
bling. Mark  knew  that  he  would  have  a 
bad  time  of  it,  though  he  tried  to  be 
merely  matter-of-fact. 

"  I  've  been  looking  for  your  brother," 
he  said.     "  Is  he  here?  " 

She  shook  her  head,  her  clear  eyes  in- 
tent upon  him.  In  spite  of  himself,  his 
own  eyes  avoided  the  meeting. 

"What  is  it?"  she  asked,  very 
quietly. 

"  Nothing,"  he  returned.  "  I  'd  been 
talking  to  him — about  work.  I  wanted 
to  see  him." 

"No,"  she  said  gently;  "it  isn't  that. 
You  must  tell  me." 

He  knew  then  that  he  had  failed  utterly, 
wretchedly.  He  would  have  given  much 
just  then  for  a  little  skill  at  lying;  but  he 


On  the  Great  Trail  75 

had  none,  and  he  hesitated  awkwardly, 
his  wits  groping. 

"  You  need  n't  be  afraid  to  tell  me," 
she  said,  still  with  calm  control.  "  I 
must  know.  The  kindest  thing  j^ou  can 
do  is  to  tell  me  the  truth.  He  has  been 
drinking — is  that  it  ?  Ah,  it 's  more  than 
that!     Tell  me." 

She  faced  him  resolutely,  laying  her 
hand  upon  his  arm,  compelling  him. 
From  the  bottom  of  his  soul  he  pitied  her 
and  wanted  to  be  gentle,  but  his  answer 
was  brutally  blunt. 

"  I  'm  afraid  he  's  gone." 

"Gone?"  she  breathed.  "Do  you 
mean  that  he  's  dead?  " 

"  No :  I  mean  that  he 's  run  away." 
Though  he  knew  that  his  every  word  was 
cruel  as  a  blow,  he  told  her  the  bare,  hard 
facts,  concealing  nothing — feeling  that, 
once  he  had  begun,  concealment  was  use- 
less, impossible. 

From  first  to  last  she  listened  in  perfect 
silence,  her  hands  clasped  before  her,  her 
eyes    holding    his    steadfastly,    only    the 


76    The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

deathlike  whiteness  of  her  face  betraying 
her  agony.  When  there  was  no  more  to 
be  told,  she  bowed  her  head  abjectly,  and 
her  slight  body  was  shaken  by  the  stress 
of  a  long,  sobbing  sigh. 

"  How  could  he!  "  she  whispered,  "  oh, 
how  could  he! " 

Tears  were  shining  upon  her  cheeks. 
Mark  took  her  small,  cold  hands,  holding 
them  fast  in  his  strong  clasp;  then,  with 
profound  compassion,  heedless  of  every- 
thing but  her  need  to  be  comforted,  he 
drew  her  to  him,  and  she  hid  her  face  upon 
his  shoulder. 

"  I  was  so  sure  of  him,  this  time,"  she 
sobbed.  After  a  moment  she  drew  away 
from  him,  commanding  herself  bravely. 

"  Oh,  I  hoped  it  would  be  different,"  she 
said,  with  infinite  sorrow.  "  No  one  here 
knows;  but  I  must  tell  you  now.  He 
has  been  like  this  all  his  life.  Right  and 
wrong  have  never  meant  anything  to  him, 
except  when  he  had  to  face  punishment. 
He  did  a  dreadful  thing — as  bad  as  this 
— back  there  where  our  home  was.     We 


On  the  Great  Trail  "n 

had  to  give  up  everything  we  had  to  make 
it  right.  We  could  n't  stay  there,  after 
that,  and  I  begged  him  to  go  with  me  to 
some  new  place,  as  far  as  we  could  get 
from  everybody  and  everything,  where 
life  itself  would  be  new,  and  where  he 
could  begin  again.  He  was  willing  to 
come,  too;  I  thought  he  was  honestly 
ashamed,  and  I  hoped " 

He  felt  himself  powerless  before  her 
great  grief,  and  he  did  not  try  to  console 
her. 

"What  can  we  do?"  he  asked  simply. 

She  did  not  hesitate.  "  Oh,  I  must 
find  him!  "  she  cried.  "  There  is  nothing 
else  to  do.  I  can't  let  him  go.  I  must 
find  him,  and  you  must  be  my  friend  and 
help  me."  Sudden  recollection  came  to 
her  then,  and  a  wave  of  vivid  coloui-  swept 
her  face.  "  But  he  took  all  you  had,"  she 
said  sadly.     "  You  are  as  poor  as  I  now." 

"  Don't  "  he  begged.  "  You  must  n't 
think  of  that.  Do  you  think  that  mat- 
ters, beside  the  other?  If  you  really  want 
me  for  your  friend,  you  must  n't  talk  of 


78    The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

that    part    any    more.      You  've    got    to 
promise." 

She  looked  at  him  long  and  earnestly, 
the  soft  colour  mounting  again;  then 
gave  him  her  hand  with  an  impulsive 
gesture. 

"  You  are  very  good  to  me,"  she 
breathed. 

He  would  not  let  her  hand  go,  but  kept 
it  in  his  own,  sheltering  it. 

"  Don't  be  afraid,"  he  said.  "  We  '11 
find  him.  You  must  make  yourself  be- 
lieve that.  There  '11  be  some  way.  I 
must  go  now,  but  I  '11  be  back  again,  by 
and  by.  I  '11  have  to  tell  some  of  the  men 
what's  happened — the  men  I  'm  with,  you 
know." 

"  Yes,  of  course,"  she  agreed  quietly, 
and  with  that  he  left  her,  returning  up  the 
hill  to  Cannon. 

The  giant  was  still  bent  upon  his  search 
for  the  missing  horse,  floundering  through 
the  tangled  thicnets,  wet  with  sweat,  talk- 
ing sturdily  to  himself. 

"  You  can  quit  your  hunting,"  Mark 


On  the  Great  Trail  79 

said.  "  You  won't  find  the  horse  here. 
Braidlaw  stole  him." 

Cannon  stood  erect,  towering,  red  and 
hot  with  sudden  rage. 

"Braidlaw!"  he  thundered.  "So 
Braidlaw  stole  him,  did  he?  How  do  you 
know?  " 

Mark  told  how  he  knew,  going  straight 
to  the  point,  without  waste  of  words, 
while  Cannon  listened  with  grim  atten- 
tion, his  hair  and  beard  seeming  to  bristle 
with  feeling  as  his  understanding  laid 
hold  of  the  facts.  JNIark  expected  a  pas- 
sionate outburst  of  wrath;  but  at  the  last 
Cannon  sat  down  wearily  upon  a  fallen 
log,  nursing  his  huge  knees  between  his 
great  arms,  meditating  heavily  upon  the 
news. 

"Here  to-day,  an'  gone  to-morrow!" 
he  said  finally,  with  childlike  mildness; 
then,  with  the  threat  of  gathering  laugh- 
ter in  his  deep  voice :  "  My  Lord,  Bailey, 
but  it  seems  good  to  have  things  turn  out 
the  way  you  expect  'em  to,  don't  it?" 
With  that  his  laughter  burst  in  a  vibrant 
bellow  that  shook  the  woods. 


8o   The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

"  I  wish  you  'd  tell  me  whom  the  joke  's 
on,"  Mark  said,  when  the  eruption  was 
d\^ing  away  in  the  hairy  throat.  "  I 
can't  see  it,  and  I  need  a  good  laugh  right 
now." 

"Why,  you're  busted!"  Cannon 
shouted,  pounding  his  knee  with  his  mas- 
sive fist.  "You're  busted!  You  ain't 
got  a  cent.  If  you  want  even  one  little 
drink  o'  whiskey,  you  got  to  wait  till 
somebodj^  asks  you.  That 's  what  tickles 
me."  He  was  quickly  sobered  as  an- 
other phase  of  the  matter  struck  him: 
"  How  about  the  girl?  I  reckon  she  's 
busted  too.     What 's  she  goin'  to  do  ?  " 

"  She  says  she 's  going  to  find  her 
brother,"  Mark  told  him. 

"  Yes,  I  expect,"  Cannon  drawled. 
"Of  course!  That's  the  everlastin'  wo- 
man of  it.  Don't  it  make  you  sick? 
Now,  what  the  devil  does  she  want  to  find 
him  for?  Why  don't  she  keep  away  from 
him  an'  let  him  alone  till  he  turns  up  nice 
an'  dead  an'  ready  to  be  took  back  to  the 
family  graveyard?     That 's  what  I  'd  do 


On  the  Great  Trail  8i 

with  him,  by  God!  But  that  ain't  what 
I  meant.  What 's  she  goin'  to  do  right 
now?  She  can't  be  let  be  this  way.  You 
better  go  get  her  an'  fetch  her  up  here 
where  my  widder  is.  Or  wait :  we  '11  go 
an'  send  the  widder  down  to  her.  It 
takes  a  woman,  these  times.  Come  on; 
let 's  see  what  she  says." 

Mrs.  Cannon  was  growing  fretful  over 
the  delayed  breakfast,  which  was  keeping 
hot  about  the  open  fire,  awaiting  Can- 
non's return  from  liis  horse-hunt.  He 
hailed  her  gleefully: 

"  Look  here,  Mollj^  what  I  've  brought 
you  to  feed.  Nothin'  in  the  house  to  eat, 
an'  nothin'  to  buy  it  with.  Half -starved, 
an'  too  proud  to  beg.  Don't  be  scared  of 
him ;  he  's  one  o'  these  here  poor  but  hon- 
est kind."  Another  attack  of  mirth 
was  threatening,  but  the  sight  and  scent 
of  the  waiting  breakfast  cut  it  off,  and  he 
threw  himself  down  cross-legged  upon  the 
ground.  "  Here 's  your  place,  Mark. 
Don't  hang  back.  Talkin'  an'  eatin'  al- 
ways  go   mighty   well   together,    if   you 

6 


82    The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

want  to  talk  when  you  're  hungr}^  Help 
yourself." 

Between  times,  while  he  attended  to 
his  lusty  appetite,  he  gave  the  sorry  story 
to  his  wife.  She  listened  placidly,  seem- 
ingly unperturbed,  though  jMark  was 
sure  of  her  generous  sympathy. 

"Poor  child!"  she  said.  "Of  course 
I  '11  go.  Why,  Joe,  she  must  go  west 
with  us." 

"West?"  Cannon  echoed.  ''What 
for?  To  hunt  for  him,  you  mean?  He 
did  n't  go  west — if  he  had  any  sense,  he 
did  n't.  He  'd  know  he  can't  lose  hunself 
out  on  the  big  trail.  What  he 's  done,  if 
he  had  anj^  sense  left,  was  most  likely  to 
cut  for  some  o'  them  towns  down  the 
river,  in  Kansas  or  ^Missouri,  where  he 
can  stay  hid."  He  brooded  upon  the 
matter  for  a  moment,  over  his  pint  of 
coffee.  "  West,"  he  repeated  with  a 
grin.  "  I  don't  know  but  that 's  a  pretty 
good  notion,  after  all.  We  don't  want 
her  to  find  him,  do  we?  The  best  we  can 
do  for  her  is  to  keep  her  lookin'  in  all  the 


On  the  Great  Trail  83 

unlikely  places,  till  he  's  had  time  to  sink 
himself  in  deep  water  somewheres.  It 
won't  take  him  long.  The  trip  west  '11  be 
interestin'  an'  good  for  her  health,  too. 
You  go  talk  to  her,  Molly." 

She  went  at  once.  On  the  way  she  en- 
countered Forrester,  sauntering  leisurely 
up  the  hill  to  his  day's  loafing  in  Mark's 
company.  To  him  she  told  what  had  be- 
fallen, and  their  plan  for  Dorothy.  He 
heard  her  through  gravely  and  in  silence. 

"  Of  course,"  he  said  then,  with  unruf- 
fled composure.  "  It 's  the  only  thing  to 
do.  It  was  like  you  to  think  of  it."  He 
hesitated,  awkward,  abashed,  flushing  with 
boyish  embarrassment.  "  But  you  must 
let  me  come  in  on  this  too,"  he  said 
lightly,  and  his  lazy  hand  was  outstretched 
with  a  crumpled  roll  of  bills.  "  I  know 
it 's  no  real  help,  of  the  kind  she  needs ; 
but  it  may  come  handy.  I  can't  go  to 
her  with  it;  she  would  n't  let  me,  would 
she?  Folks  are  so  unreasonable  over  a 
little  wad  of  money.  But  you  can  take 
it  for  her.     You  needn't  give  it  to  her 


84   The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

now,  but  you  can  keep  it  tucked  away 
somewhere,  for  emergency,  and  not  let 
her  know." 

Her  placid  eyes  were  moist,  and  she 
took  his  hand  between  her  comfortable 
palms  with  a  sympathetic  pressure. 

"  You  are  a  good  man,"  she  said 
warmly. 

His  flush  deepened  to  scarlet,  but  he 
w^ould  not  let  voice  or  manner  betray  him. 
"Wait,  wait!"  he  cried  gaily.  "That 
line  is  n't  in  the  play.  If  you  begin  to 
talk  like  that,  I  '11  make  you  give  it  back. 
What  you  must  say  is,  '  I  '11  keep  your 
secret  with  my  life ' — something  like 
that,  you  know.  Seriously,  though,  INIrs. 
Cannon,  my  ej^esight  's  poor  and  my 
judgment 's  bad  when  it  comes  to  helping 
anybody  in  distress.  If  you  see  that  I 
can  be  of  any  use,  pass  me  the  word  on 
the  quiet,  will  you?  " 

With  that  he  went  on  his  way,  his  hat 
tipped  far  to  the  back  of  his  head,  his 
hands  deep  in  his  pockets,  the  smoke  of 
his  pipe  rising  in  a  tranquil  cloud. 


On  the  Great  Trail  85 

For  once  he  found  Mark  idle,  sitting 
disconsolate  on  the  bench  beside  his  cabin 
door. 

"  I  hoped  you  'd  come,"  Mark  said. 
"  I  Ve  got  to  talk  to  you." 

"  Listen  a  minute,  first,"  Forrester  in- 
terposed. "  You  can  skip  the  harrowing 
part.  I  know  it  already.  I  ran  against 
]Mrs.  Cannon  down  below,  and  she  told 
me."  He  let  himself  easily  down  to  his 
favourite  seat  upon  the  grass,  carefully 
refilled  his  pipe  and  got  it  well  aglow, 
making  himself  quite  comfortable. 

"  Well,  here  I  am,"  Mark  said  grimly. 
"  I  'm  mighty  glad  I  came.  This  is  a 
lot  better  than  Ohio." 

Forrester  made  an  inarticulate  sound 
over  his  pipestem;  his  eyes  were  shining 
with  amusement. 

"What's  my  part?"  he  asked.  "I 
suppose  I  'm  expected  to  tell  you  how 
sorry  I  am  that  you  've  got  to  pull  out  of 
this  freighting  proposition." 

Mark  refused  to  join  in  his  levity. 
"  What  else   can   I   do,"   he   demanded. 


86   The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

"  unless  they  '11  give  me  work  with  the 
waggons? " 

Forrester  spat  with  a  grimace  of  dis- 
taste. "  Don't  feel  obliged  to  be  an  ass, 
just  because  it  becomes  natural  and  easy 
to  you,"  he  said  shortly.  "  This  is  no 
time  for  any  of  your  mock-heroics.  Let 
me  tell  you  right  now  that  you  're  going 
to  stay  in  the  combination,  and  you  're 
going  to  let  me  lend  you  the  money  for 
it.  You  can't  afford  to  pass  it  up.  The 
chance  won't  come  again." 

Mark  answered  with  a  short,  harsh 
laugh.  This  was  just  what  he  had  ex- 
pected and  half  feared.  "  I  'm  not  tak- 
ing charity,"  he  said  bluntly. 

"Damn  charity!"  Forrester  retorted 
in  hot  impatience.  "  You  fool!  You 
poor,  peevish  fool!  "  But  he  seemed  un- 
equal to  the  strain  of  sustained  feeling, 
and  his  voice  quickly  fell  to  its  wonted 
level.  "  It 's  not  charity ;  it 's  plain 
business.  I  've  got  the  money  free,  and 
you  can  pay  me  whatever  interest  they 
get  in  this  ravenous  country,  if  you  're 


On  the  Great  Trail  87 

bound  that  friendship  sha'n't  bear  so 
much  of  the  debt.  Why,  look  here ! " 
Listlessly,  almost  aimlessly,  he  began 
feeling  through  his  pockets  and  beneath 
his  wide  belt,  laying  upon  the  grass  be- 
fore him  a  little  mound  of  bills  and  gold 
coin.  He  drew  back  from  it,  touching  it 
impatiently  with  his  boot.  "  I  'm  rank 
with  it.  I  can't  use  it  all.  Whatever 
virtue  there  is  in  it  is  going  to  waste. 
Damn  it  all,  ISIark,  that  stuff  has  always 
kept  between  my  friends  and  me.  They 
sh}^  oif  from  it  as  if  it  were  carrion.  I 
wish  you  'd  tell  me  why  it  is  that  j^ou  '11 
take  everything  else  I  can  give  you — 
things  that  cost  me  a  lot  more — but  won't 
take  a  few  scraps  of  dirty  paper  that  hap- 
pens to  have  a  little  cheap  job-printing 
on  it.  Besides,  ^lark,  they  're  going  to 
need  you.  Frick  's  been  counting  on 
you  for  a  sort  of  second  waggon-boss, 
under  Cannon.  They  '11  be  ready  to 
start  by  the  middle  of  next  week,  and  it 's 
too  late  now  to  pick  up  another  man, 
even  to  take  the  place  of  such  an  idiot  as 


88   The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

you  are.  But  you  have  n't  got  a  patent 
on  idiocy." 

He  struck  a  match  upon  his  boot-heel 
and  sat  watching  the  tiny  flame  kindle. 

"  You  '11  take  this  stuff,"  he  said  with 
grave  cahn,  "  or  you  '11  watch  it  burn." 
He  set  the  match-flame  against  the 
end  of  one  of  the  tattered  bills,  then 
drew  back,  looking  on  unmoved  while 
the  edge  of  the  paper  blackened  and 
curled. 

Mark  set  his  foot  upon  the  blaze  and 
crushed  it  out. 

"  No,  I  've  got  no  patent  on  idiocy," 
he  said.  "  I  reckon  you  've  got  me  where 
I  can't  help  myself.  But  I  hate  to  begin 
so — in  debt,  and  under  obligation,  even 
to  you." 

"Pshaw!"  Forrester  scoffed.  "You 
can  pay  it  back  twice  over,  after  this  trip. 
We  can't  keep  from  making  mone5\ 
That  man  Trick's  a  wonder.  Our  boat 
got  in  from  St.  Louis  last  night,  and  he  '11 
set  the  men  to  work  on  the  loading  to- 
day, likely.     He  wants  you  at  the  Bluffs 


On  the  Great  Trail  89 

in  the  morning  to  help.  We  '11  fix  up 
this  deal  of  ours  then." 

Late  in  the  afternoon  a  freighters* 
train  drew  into  town  over  the  westward 
trail,  and  eagerly  ^lark  sought  news  of 
Braidlaw.  He  had  stopped  for  break- 
fast in  the  early  morning  at  the  freight- 
ers' camp,  twenty-five  miles  out,  hurrying 
on  again,  so  soon  as  breakfast  was  eaten, 
telling  nothing  of  his  destination  or 
purpose. 

"All  right,"  Cannon  said,  when  he  had 
heard.  "  He  's  turned  the  trump.  Now 
let 's  see  how  much  he  knows  about  the 
game." 

With  the  dawn  of  the  next  day  began 
Mark's  work  with  the  men  of  the  new 
train;  and  it  was  work  for  men,  that 
made  his  labour  of  the  preceding  days 
seem  no  more  than  a  play-spell.  The 
twenty-six  waggons  of  the  train,  huge  of 
body,  broad  of  tire,  seeming  wholly  fit 
for  what  was  ahead,  were  drawn  up  in 
order  along  the  river  front,  ready  to  re- 
ceive their   cargo   as  it   was   discharged 


90   The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

from  the  boat's  hold;  and  through  the 
hours  of  the  long  days  the  labourers — two 
score  strong,  a  mighty  crew — toiled 
straining  and  sweating  and  swearing  at 
their  tasks,  piling  and  lashing  upon  the 
waggons  the  great  boxes,  bales,  and 
crates  of  wares  destined  for  the  farther 
places  on  the  trail  beyond  the  plains,  a 
two-or-three  months'  journey  away. 

It  seemed  such  toil  as  the  gods  knew 
when  the  world  was  making;  toil  of  a 
primal  vigour  and  full  of  a  primal  pain 
and  a  primal  joy.  By  mid-morning  of 
the  first  day  Mark's  lonv,  firm  muscles 
seemed  ready  to  tear  away  from  the 
bones,  quivering  with  utter  exhaustion, 
his  deep  lungs  gasping,  and  his  strong 
heart  near  to  bursting  with  the  rush  of 
his  blood. 

Now  and  then,  when  the  chance  came, 
at  rare  moments,  when  the  work  halted, 
he  would  fall  at  his  length  within  the 
shadow  of  a  pile  of  freight  or  in  the  full 
glow  of  the  ardent  sunlight,  lying  with 
arms   and   legs   outstretched,   motionless. 


On  the  Great  Trail  91 

feeling  that  his  strength  had  been  spent 
to  the  very  uttermost;  yet  rising  to  his 
task  again,  when  the  word  came,  with 
mind  and  body  flooded  with  the  unabat- 
able  vigour  of  his  splendid  youth  and 
health. 

Once  Cannon  came  to  him,  reeking  wet, 
the  back  of  his  scarlet  shirt  torn  away  to 
the  waist,  the  flesh  of  his  great  shoulder 
crushed  and  bleeding. 

"  Here,  Bailey,"  he  said,  with  a  sort  of 
lusty  savagery  in  his  deep  voice,  "  fix  this 
up  for  me,  will  you?  One  o'  them  boxes 
slipped."  Then,  when  Mark  touched  the 
edges  of  the  ragged  wound  gently:  "  No, 
no;  not  my  shoulder — my  shirt!  My 
shoulder  '11  grow  up,  but  my  shirt  won't. 
Makes  me  feel  plumb  naked.  Take  a 
piece  o'  string,  or  a  splinter,  or  somethin', 
an'  kind  o'  hitch  it  up  somehow,  till  I  can 
get  home  to  the  widder." 

While  Mark  did  as  he  was  bidden,  the 
giant  breathed  a  deep  sigh  of  profound 
weariness.  "Lord,  but  this  is  work! 
Just  look  at  them  boys  go  at  it.     Makes 


92   The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

me  grunt  to  watch  'em.  But  Frick  says 
we  've  got  to  be  ready  to  start  by  sun- 
up next  Wednesday.  He  talks  as  if  he 
knows.  But  six  days!  I  don't  beheve  it. 
It  can't  be  did.  Have  you  seen  Frick? 
Not  a  drop  o'  sweat  on  him.  I  don't  be- 
heve he  's  human  enough  to  sweat.  He 
must  be  some  kind  of  a  devil." 

As  the  sturdy  days  passed,  Frick's 
word  seemed  more  and  more  likely  to 
be  made  good.  Toward  the  last,  when 
daylight  was  not  enough,  torches  were 
brought  and  set  up,  and  by  their  yellow 
flare  the  crew  laboured  on,  a  piece  of  liv- 
iny  mechanism. 

At  midnight  on  Tuesday  Frick  walked 
up  and  down  the  line  of  waggons  with  a 
torch-bearer,  critically  scanning  the  loads 
and  the  skilful  knoting  of  the  thick 
ropes  that  bound  them  in  place  while  the 
men  stood  back  triumphant. 

"A  good  job,  boys,"  Frick  said  coolly. 
"  There 's  whiskey  and  supper  at  the 
Boltwood  place,  waiting  for  you.      But 


On  the  Great  Trail  93 

don't  overdo  it.  I  want  every  waggon- 
man  in  his  place  at  sunrise." 

And  at  sunrise  the  train  got  under 
way,  the  laden  waggons  crossing  in  detach- 
ments by  the  ferry  to  the  Nebraska  side, 
to  be  marshalled  there  for  a  last  inspection. 
The  draught  animals  were  oxen — superb, 
sturdy  beasts,  made  for  hardship;  and 
with  the  train  was  a  little  band  of  horses 
for  such  need  as  might  befall.  Frick, 
who  was  to  captain  the  train,  rode  quietly 
from  waggon  to  waggon,  with  a  final 
word  here  and  there  to  the  men;  then  the 
giant  Cannon,  standing  by  the  lead  team, 
gave  a  mighty  shout,  half  an  order  to  his 
beasts  and  half  a  defiant  challenge  to 
Fate;  the  long  lash  of  his  braided  whip 
leaped  forward  over  the  backs  of  his  oxen, 
and  the  great  creatures  settled  their 
massive  shoulders  straining  against  the 
yokes.  What  was  to  come  thenceforward 
would  come. 

As  the  line  crept  westward  through  the 
toMTi,  other  waggons  fell  into  the  rear — 
emigrant  parties  that  had  been  awaiting 


94    The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

tliis  chance  to  join  with  some  large  train 
for  common  safety  against  the  unknown 
perils  of  the  long  journey.  There  were 
a  score  of  these,  variously  laden  and  vari- 
ously bound,  making  in  all  a  strong  com- 
pany— strong  in  numbers  and  strong  in 
those  undefined  qualities  that  were  to 
give  form  and  character  to  the  new  land. 

When  the  train  came  to  the  foot  of  the 
first  hill-slope  and  began  the  slow  ascent, 
Mark  glanced  back  from  his  place,  tak- 
ing in  the  long  perspective  of  the  line. 
At  the  head  of  the  emigrant  division  was 
Cannon's  own  waggon;  upon  the  seat, 
under  the  arch  of  the  canvas,  sat  Can- 
non's wife,  and  by  her  side  was  Dorothy 
Braidlaw. 

At  the  summit  of  the  chain  of  bluffs 
Mark  paused,  standing  for  a  time  with 
head  bared  to  the  warm  wind,  possessed 
by  a  sort  of  awe  that  had  no  tinge  of  fear. 
He  was  taking  leave  of  the  past,  welcom- 
ing the  future,  that  held — God  knew 
what  of  good  and  evil,  of  gain  or  loss. 

Omaha  lay  below,  close  to  the  water's 


On  the  Great  Trail  95 

edge,  a  cluster  of  dusky  specks  in  a 
wide  expanse  of  living  green.  Bej/ond, 
stretching  its  sinuous  length  for  miles 
through  the  heart  of  the  valley,  lay  the 
mighty  JNIissouri,  beautiful  and  shining 
in  the  sunlight;  and  farther  still,  ten 
miles  away,  swelled  the  low  line  of  the 
Iowa  hills — full  breasts  of  the  great,  good 
IMother  Earth.  The  valley  forest  ended 
where  he  stood,  and  to  the  westward 
opened  illimitable  miles  of  billowy  prairie ; 
treeless  save  where  here  and  there  a 
threadlike  line  of  cottonwoods  marked 
the  course  of  a  tiny  streamlet;  trackless 
save  for  the  gray  zigzag  of  the  trail; 
empty  of  all  that  had  made  the  life  he  had 
known.  From  rim  to  rim  of  the  horizon 
the  deep  dome  of  the  sky  was  immacu- 
late. The  wide,  unconquered  wildness 
of  the  prospect  entered  his  very  soul, 
making  him  one  with  it-  Before  him 
lay  his  portion.  He  laughed  aloud,  ex- 
ultingly,  as  he  urged  his  oxen  again  into 
motion. 

For  Dorothy,  too,  the  moment  was  like 
a  crisis.  As  their  waggons  topped  the  bluff 


96   The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

and  her  eyes  swept  the  broad,  waste  miles, 
she  drew  nearer  to  Mrs.  Cannon's  side, 
shrinking. 

"It  frightens  me!"  she  wliispered. 

The  older  woman's  motherly  arm  was 
about  her,  the  motherly  cheek  pressed 
against  her  fair  hair.  "  You  dear  child!  " 
the  motherly  lips  murmured. 

"You  aren't  afraid?"  Dorothy  ques- 
tioned. 

The  rich  answering  laugh  was  very 
comforting.  "Afraid?  No!  I  wanted 
to  come  with  Joe.  The  women  will  help 
make  the  new  country,  and  I  wanted  to 
see  what  it 's  like.  You  must  n't  let 
yourself  be  afraid,  deary." 

The  shadow  of  a  great  rock  in  a 
a  weary  land,' "  Dorothy  said  softly. 
"  That 's  been  haunting  me  ever  since  we 
came  here.  I  never  knew  what  it  meant 
before." 

Forrester  rode  up  beside  the  waggon, 
his  broad  hat  swinging  at  his  side,  the  wind 
Hfting  the  thick  brown  hair  from  about 
his   smooth   forehead.     He   had   whimsi- 


On  the  Great  Trail  97 

cally  refused  to  bid  farewell  to  the  party 
in  the  town;  good-byes  were  too  discom- 
posing; he  would  ride  out  upon  the  trail 
for  a  little  way,  until  he  saw  the  train 
fairly  started,  and  then  slip  away  without 
harrowing  emotion.  He  sat  his  horse 
with  the  easy  indolence  that  seemed  in- 
separable from  liim,  and  his  eyes  were 
merry. 

"  Do  you  know  what  this  crowd  makes 
me  think  of?  "  he  cried  gaily:  "  The  child- 
ren of  Israel  going  up  out  of  Egypt. 
Only  I  don't  seem  to  see  old  JNIister 
INIoses.  Your  husband's  beard  is  n't  the 
right  colour,  Mrs.  Cannon;  and  Frick 
could  n't  pass  for  a  patriarch  in  a  blind 
asylum." 

Dorothy  spoke  with  a  kindred  caprice: 
"  But  w^e  have  plenty  of  Aarons." 

His  glance  sought  her  face  and  lin- 
gered there  for  a  little  time;  only  for  a 
moment,  yet  In  that  moment  a  hand's- 
breath  of  shadow  fell  upon  his  levity,  then 
passed — so  quickly  that  only  Mrs.  Can- 
non knew  that  it  had  come  and  gone. 
7 


98    The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

"A  right  good  bunch  of  Aarons,"  he 
returned.  "And  they  're  a  lot  safer  to 
travel  with — steady,  and  sober,  and  sure- 
going,  and  willing  to  bear  the  curse  of 
things." 

"  Oh,  I  think  Moses  was  splendid!  "  the 
girl  challenged. 

"Splendid!"  he  echoed.  "Yes,  that 
was  his  chief  trouble.  It  must  have 
made  him  a  mighty  uncomfortable  chap 
to  live  with.  No;  when  it  comes  right 
down  to  hard  living,  give  me  an  Aaron 
for  a  bunk-mate, — one  of  the  healthy 
sort,  that  see  things  right  side  up.  Poor, 
splendid  Moses  would  have  got  his  picnic 
party  all  balled  up  if  he  had  n't  had  Aaron 
along  to  keep  him  straightened  out." 

He  tightened  his  rein  and  straightened 
his  posture  in  the  saddle.  "  I  must  talk 
to  that  boy  Mark  a  minute,"  he  said,  and 
rode  forward  along  the  line,  carrying  him- 
self with  the  grace  of  a  born  horseman; 
the  eyes  of  the  women  following  him. 

"  There  's  a  true  man,  my  deary,"  Mrs. 
Cannon  said  softly. 


On  the  Great  Trail  99 

The  girl  did  not  answer  at  once. 
"  Yes,"  she  said  thoughtfully,  by  and  by. 
"  Yes,  I  think  he  is.  He  's  the  kind  of 
man  I  would  want  to  have  for  my  friend." 

Mrs.  Cannon's  placid  brows  were  lifted, 
ever  so  slightty,  and  a  faint  smile  hovered 
about  the  corners  of  her  lips;  but  she  was 
content  with  silence. 

Forrester  drew  rein  again  at  Mark's 
side,  where  the  man  walked  by  his  ox- 
team,  patiently  drilling  himself  in  the  use 
of  the  braided  whip. 

"All  the  big  and  little  gods  are  smiling 
on  us,  iNIark,"  the  boy  cried  happily. 
"Lord!  but  it  looks  fine,  doesn't  it? 
Seeing  the  procession  start  gave  me  the 
first  real  thrill  I  've  had  since  I  put  on 
long  breeches.  I  ^vish — my  poor  soul! 
I  ^vish  I  had  nerve  enough  to  go  on 
with  you.  More  than  a  thousand  miles 
afoot!" 

A  new  assurance  sounded  in  Mark's 
voice.  "  This  is  where  I  seem  to  belong. 
Jack.     I  've  been  waiting  for  this." 

"I   believe   you!"     He   sat   drooping 


loo  The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

forward  in  his  saddle,  looking  away  to 
the  far  Hne  of  the  level  horizon.  "  No!  " 
he  said  presently.  "  I  reckon  I  'd  better 
toddle  back.  The  thi'ill  would  most  likely 
die  down  in  me,  out  there  in  the  middle 
of  the  desert  somewhere,  and  then  where 
would  I  be?  I  'm  afraid  the  kind  of  feel- 
ing that  carries  a  man  through  deserts 
does  n't  come  in  thrills.  I  '11  stay  mth 
you  till  dinner  time,  and  then  1 11  go 
back." 

Their  talk  was  of  an  aimless,  haphaz- 
ard sort,  while  the  boy  rode  by  his  friend's 
side,  keeping  his  horse  checked  to  a  slow 
walk,  timed  to  the  pace  of  the  train. 
Sometimes  it  touched  upon  intimate 
things  in  the  deeper  places  of  their  lives; 
and  again  it  would  drift  lightly  in  the 
shallows.  The  mellow  warmth  of  the 
sunlit  summer  day  lulled  them  into  the 
serenity  of  mere  living  and  breathing. 

The  laden  train  seemed  only  to  crawl 
along  the  trail,  like  a  huge,  overfed  rep- 
tile made  drowsy  by  the  increasing  heat  of 
the  oncoming  noon;  the  heavy,  plodding 


On  the  Great  Trail  loi 

feet  of  the  oxen  Hfting  and  falling,  lift- 
ing and  falling  in  slow,  stolid,  changeless 
rhythm,  their  great  heads  bent  low,  their 
great  bodies  swaying  with  a  cumbrous 
motion  as  they  dragged  at  their  yokes. 
Now  and  again  Mark  felt  it  a  real  hard- 
ship to  match  their  steps  with  his,  while 
his  desire  leaped  far  ahead;  yet  for  week 
after  week,  month  after  month,  he  must 
keep  that  pace,  across  desert  wastes  and 
through  mountain  fastnesses — brave  dis- 
cipline for  impatience. 

But  the  plodding  steps  fell  surely, 
inevitably;  slow  minute  followed  slow 
minute,  and  the  morning  passed.  To- 
ward noontime  the  train  crept  down  into 
the  little  valley  of  the  Papillion,  and  there 
a  halt  was  made  for  dinner.  Forrester 
still  kept  at  JNIark's  side,  and  together 
they  would  have  taken  their  places  in  the 
general  mess  provided  for  the  men;  but 
Cannon  willed  otherwise. 

"  You  youngsters  come  along  'with 
me,"  he  ordered  brusquely,  and  led  them 
to  a  nook  in  the  grass-grown  elm  grove. 


I02  The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

where  Mrs.  Cannon  and  Dorothy  were 
setting  out  their  meal  at  the  water's  edge ; 
and  there  they  took  their  nooning. 

Their  talk  had  no  deep  meaning;  it 
was  all  of  happy,  light-tempered  noth- 
ings. The  morning  had  wrought  power- 
fully upon  Mark  and  Cannon,  giving 
them  a  sort  of  foretaste  of  triumph  that 
was  yet  free  of  the  weariness  and  disillu- 
sion of  triumph.  Upon  Forrester  too  it 
had  wrought  curiously,  though  so  differ- 
ently. The  mood  of  a  man  was  hardly 
his;  there  was  upon  him  rather  the  buoy- 
ant quality  of  that  first  time  in  untroubled 
youth  Mhen  the  heart's  outlook  is  wide 
and  cloudless,  and  when  the  mind  has  no 
doubting  questions  to  ask  of  life,  finding 
it  wholly  good.  His  habitual  indiffer- 
ence was  put  aside ;  his  happiness  was  sin- 
cere to  the  hour's  end. 

His  place  was  across  from  Dorothy, 
where  she  sat  resting  against  the  shaggy 
gray  trunk  of  an  elm.  She  took  but 
small  part  in  the  wordy  trifling  over  the 
dinner,  and  the  boy  seemed  subtly  glad 


On  the  Great  Trail  103 

to  have  it  so.  His  badinage  was  with  the 
others,  yet  his  eyes  were  upon  her,  watch- 
ing the  dehcate  play  of  the  lights  and 
shades  of  feeling  as  she  listened. 

The  camp  was  astir  again,  and  Forres- 
ter rose  from  his  place  with  something 
of  the  air  of  waking  to  consciousness. 

"  Here  's  where  I  quit  you,"  he  said. 
"  I  'm  sorry.  I  think  I  '11  go  hunt  a  hole 
somewhere  and  crawl  into  it  till  you  get 
back.  I  'm  going  to  miss  you  a  lot.  Tell 
me  good-bye  now,  quick,  and  let  me  go." 

He  gave  his  hand  with  a  sort  of  eager 
haste  to  the  men  and  to  Mrs.  Cannon  and 
at  last  to  Dorothy. 

"  Good  luck !  "  he  said  quietly,  simply, 
and  kept  her  hand  in  his  with  a  firm,  de- 
taining pressure,  his  eyes,  their  gay  light 
dying  away,  lingering  upon  hers  until 
her  cheeks  were  suffused  with  the  flush  of 
a  shy  confusion.  "Good  luck!"  he  said 
again,  and  let  her  go,  turning  away  to 
where  his  horse  was  tethered,  grazing. 

As  the  train  got  under  way,  he  sat  in 
his  saddle  at  the  side  of  the  trail,  looking 


I04  The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

on,  calling  a  laughing  farewell  to  each 
in  turn  as  they  passed  him.  When  the 
last  waggon  had  gone  by,  still  he  sat,  look- 
ing after  them.  Where  the  descent  of 
the  next  hill-slope  began,  INIark  looked 
back  and  saw  that  he  had  not  stirred. 

A  half -hour  passed.  Then,  from  off 
to  one  side  of  the  trail,  a  shout  came 
faintly ;  and  when  Mark  looked,  there  was 
Forrester,  riding  at  a  mad  gallop  down 
from  one  of  the  bolder  crests.  When  he 
drew  rein  again  at  Mark's  side,  his  face 
was  beaming. 

"  You  thought  you  were  rid  of  me, 
didn't  you?"  he  laughed.  "Well, 
you  're  not.     I  'm  going  along." 


IV 

THE    WAY   OF   A   JIAN 

THE  first  night's  camp-ground  was 
found  at  sunset  in  a  wide,  grassy 
vale  between  sheltering  hills,  where  a 
rain-made  pool  gave  water  for  the  beasts. 
The  waggons  were  drawn  compactly  to- 
gether, and  the  oxen  were  freed  and 
turned  adrift  to  graze,  under  the  care  of 
herders,  still  bearing  the  heavy  yokes  that 
bound  them  to  their  mates.  E right  fires 
leaped  out  amongst  the  gathering  shad- 
ows, and  the  warm  air  was  laden  with  the 
odours  of  supper.  The  rigour  of  the  day 
was  abated. 

Against  Cannon's  urgent  insistence, 
Mark  ate  his  supper  with  the  waggon-men 
eager  to  get  upon  terms  with  those 
who  were  to  be  his  companions  through 
the  long  months.  They  were  a  fine  lot, 
105 


io6  The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

abounding  in  fresh  animal  vitality,  that 
found  free  expression  in  this  hour  of  re- 
laxation. The  air  rang  with  their  vibrant 
laughter  and  wholesome,  broad-tempered 
banter.  Strangers  but  a  little  while  be- 
fore, they  were  now  linked  in  a  strong 
comradeship,  to  which  none  was  an  alien. 
They  lingered  long  over  the  meal,  making 
the  most  of  the  golden  hour.  A  little 
company  of  Indians  came  into  the  camp 
■ — Omahas  or  Winnebagoes,  returning  to 
their  village  from  the  hunt — standing 
stoically  by,  silent  but  hopeful  of  largess. 
The  spirit  of  the  hour  would  suffer  none 
to  be  shut  out,  and  they  squatted  upon 
the  ground  and  ate  their  fill. 

Dusk  had  deepened  into  night  ere  the 
meal  was  done.  Then  Mark  walked  idly 
about  the  camp,  from  group  to  group, 
looking  on  at  the  jolhty.  Soon  he  en- 
countered Frick,  loitering  like  himself, 
his  day's  cares  ended.  Frick  fell  into  step 
with  him,  speaking  with  a  new  joviality: 

*'  We  Ve  started  first-rate,  Bailey. 
Not  an  accident,  and  every  wheel's  turn 


The  Way  of  a  Man  107 

has  counted.  How  do  you  hke  bull- 
whacking?  You  seemed  to  do  a  lot  bet- 
ter than  the  average  green  hand." 

"  Oh,  I  reckon  a  man  can  manage  any- 
thing he  sets  out  to,"  INIark  returned 
soberly — a  sincere  expression  of  his  dom- 
inant mood. 

"  Yes,  I  guess  that 's  so.  It 's  done 
me  a  lot  of  good  to  watch  the  boys  to-day. 
I  'm  not  going  to  be  afraid  on  their  ac- 
count^ They  've  got  the  will.  That 's 
one  thing  this  new  country's  going  to 
teach.  The  man  who  wins  will  have  to 
learn  to  make  up  his  mind  in  a  hurry 
about  new  things,  and  then  stick  to  his 
purpose.  Adaptability  's  well  enough  in 
the  old  places ;  but  it  '11  be  a  drug  in  the 
market  here  for  a  while,  compared  with 
sheer  brute  tenacity.  Your  easy,  adapt- 
able fellow  always  needs  some  luck  to 
help  him  out;  but  the  man  with  an  un- 
alterable will  has  a  better  resource  than 
luck." 

He  meditated  upon  the  matter  for  a 
time  before  he  went  on. 


io8  The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

"  I  don't  know  what  we  '11  do  with 
Jack,"  he  said,  as  though  this  thought 
grew  naturally  out  of  the  other.  "  It 's 
a  queer  notion  of  his — wanting  to  go  with 
the  train,  at  the  last  minute.  He  won't 
stick  it  out,  of  course ;  he  '11  be  dead  tired 
in  a  week,  and  wish  he  had  n't  come.  If 
it  comes  to  that,  he  can  go  back  with 
some  east-bound  train.  He  's  a  strange 
chap.  I  don't  understand  him  at  all 
There  's  no  more  generous-hearted  fellow 
in  the  world ;  yet  I  'm  not  sure  but  that 
this  lazy  indifference  of  his  is  the  suprem- 
est  kind  of  selfishness,  after  all.  He 
needs  some  kind  of  a  thorough  waking 
up." 

Suddenly  a  new  note  sounded  above 
the  medley  of  talk  and  laughter.  One 
of  the  emigrants  had  brought  a  violin 
from  his  waggon  and  was  playing  a  simple 
dance  melody,  the  tones  rising  faint  but 
sweet  and  clear  in  the  wide  outdoor  space. 
They  were  as  a  summons  to  the  loungers, 
who  gathered  quickly  about  the  musician, 
standing  in  expectant  silence  until  one 


The  Way  of  a  Man  109 

of  the  men  clasped  his  arms  about  his  wife 
and  swung  with  a  laugh  into  the  familiar 
step.  Then  a  clamorous  shout  went  up; 
a  near  fire  was  piled  high  with  wood  and 
a  broad  space  was  cleared  around  it,  bril- 
hantly  lighted  by  the  ruddy  glow.  The 
fiddler  struck  into  another  tune,  rollick- 
ing, irresistible,  standing  by  the  fire, 
keeping  time  to  the  measure  with  the 
swaying  of  his  long  body  and  the  stamp- 
ing of  his  booted  foot. 

"  Choose  your  pardners ! "  he  called 
above  the  merry  din;  and  on  the  instant 
the  spirit  of  the  dance  caught  them — 
slender  maids  and  buxom  matrons,  gray- 
beards  and  agile  boys,  in  a  whirling  eddy. 

"  Look!  "  Frick  cried.  "  That 's  what 
makes  us  strong,  Bailey!  God  only 
knows  what 's  ahead  of  us — life  or  death. 
But  it's  all  one  of  them  now.  Lord, 
Lord,  but  I  love  such  men!  They  're  like 
the  old  northland  heroes." 

The  blood  of  the  old  heroes  was  in  them, 
dilute  but  ineradicable.  They  were  bar- 
barians no  longer,  hke  their  forefathers; 


no  The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

time  had  quelled  somewhat  the  primal 
fierceness,  the  red  blaze  of  lust,  the  fury 
of  unbridled  passion,  giving  them  instead 
a  finer  strength,  a  firmer  grasp  upon  vir- 
tue ;  but  their  blood  still  leaped  from  their 
hearts,  hot  and  throbbing,  at  the  sound  of 
the  old,  wild  call — call  that  had  first  lured 
the  hordes  of  the  North  into  action,  dim 
centuries  gone;  call  now  masterful  and 
strong  as  ever — the  call  of  the  new  trail 
to  restless  feet,  the  call  of  battle  to  the 
soul  that  loves  a  fight.  The  majesty  of 
a  rude  might  was  upon  them,  and  the 
stamp  of  the  race's  master-passion — 
steadfast  integrity.  They  would  go 
wrong  sometimes,  these  conquerors  of  the 
wilderness;  but  their  errancies  would 
come  not  from  weakness  but  from  uncon- 
trollable excess  of  strength. 

Cannon  came  up  with  his  wife  and 
stood  for  a  moment  looking  on  with 
quickening  interest;  then  his  big  laugh 
rang  out  above  the  gay  tumult. 

"  I  could  dance,  once,"  he  cried  heartily. 
"  I   can   do   it   yet,   if   they  '11   give   me 


The  Way  of  a  Man  1 1 1 

room.  Come  on,  old  lady,  let 's  try  it  a 
whirl." 

He  caught  her  in  his  huge  arms  and 
bore  her  in  amongst  the  revellers,  strug- 
gling hardily  to  fall  into  the  rhythm  of 
their  step,  labouring  heavily,  towering 
above  the  others,  his  bushy  hair  and  beard 
showing  like  a  beacon  to  Hght  them  on  to 
fresh  enjoyment.  Then  Mark  saw  For- 
rester move  by  with  Dorothy  Braidlaw 
in  his  arms,  upon  his  face  a  light  of  calm 
content;  and  the  sight  brought  him  a 
vague  uneasiness. 

"  Trust  Jack ! "  Frick  commented. 
"  That  boy  always  lights  on  his  feet. 
It 's  no  cunning  contrivance  of  his ;  he 
was  just  born  to  it.  Look  well  to- 
gether, don't  they?  Well,  I  'm  going 
to  bed.     Good-night." 

Forrester  and  Dorothy  left  the  circle 
of  the  dancers,  joining  Mark  where 
he  stood  apart.  The  girl  was  flushed, 
breathless,  her  fair  hair  in  disorder,  hang- 
ing in  loose,  lustrous  masses  about  her 
shoulders.     She  put  up  her  hands,  catch- 


1 1 2  The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

ing  the  thick  coils  into  place,  laughing, 
her  eyes  brilliant. 

"  It 's  been  just  the  right  ending  for 
the  day,"  she  said  happily.  "Look! 
Was  there  ever  another  picture  like 
that?  " 

But  Mark  could  not  look  at  the  merry- 
makers; he  must  look  at  her  instead,  as 
she  stood  by  his  side — instinct  with  life, 
her  sweet  face  irradiated  and  glorified  by 
the  tender  light,  wholly  responsive  to  the 
subtle  influence  of  the  scene,  seeming  like 
an  elfin  sprite  there  in  the  wide  vale,  with 
the  wild,  wonderful  night  about  her. 

Cannon  too  made  his  escape  from  the 
whirl,  his  deep  lungs  gasping,  his  face 
beaded  with  moisture. 

"^Vhee-e!"  he  cried.  "For  heaven's 
sake,  let  me  get  my  front  feet  on  the 
ground  again !  Here,  Jack,  you  take  my 
wife.  She  ain't  had  enough.  But  I 
have !  I  'm  going  back  to  the  waggon, 
where  I  can  sit  down  and  smoke." 

Then,  for  the  first  time  since  that  morn- 
ing when  he  had  told  her  of  Braidlaw's 


The  Way  of  a  Man  1 1 3 

misdoing,  INIark  was  alone  with  Dorothy. 
He  could  hardly  have  told  why,  but  he 
had  chosen  to  avoid  a  meeting  which  he 
feared  must  lead  them  in  speech  over  dif- 
ficult places.  It  was  only  the  man's  way 
of  letting  Time  heal  those  hurts  against 
which  his  o^mi  poor  skill  is  unavailing. 
Now  that  the  meeting  had  come,  it 
brought  to  him  an  awkward  constraint, 
and  he  waited  for  her  to  speak. 

"  I  had  never  dreamed  that  such  things 
as  this  could  really  be,"  she  said  softly, 
after  a  little  time.  "  It  seems  as  though 
nobody  has  ever  been  here  before — as 
though  the  place  has  been  waiting  for  us 
since  the  very  beginning." 

His  embarrassment  clung  to  him,  and 
he  would  not  trust  himself  to  say  what 
was  in  his  thoughts.  When  he  spoke,  it 
was  in  merest  commonplace: 

"  You  are  n't  tired,  after  the  day's 
ride?" 

"No,  no!  I  enjoyed  every  minute  of 
it.  It  was  all  so  new  to  me.  I  did  n't 
want  it  to  end ;  and  now  I  wish  this  could 


114  The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

last  for  a  long  time."  She  fell  into  pen- 
sive quiet,  standing  with  her  hands  clasped 
before  her,  her  eyes  raised,  looking  not  at 
him,  not  at  the  dancers,  not  at  anything 
near,  but  far  away  into  the  great  starlit 
hollow  of  the  night.  "It  must  be  all 
right,"  she  said,  "  but  the  best  things  are 
so  soon  over  with.  I  wonder  if  the  good 
times  will  last  as  long  as  we  want  them 
to,  in  the  next  life,  or  if  we  '11  have  to  keep 
going  on  and  on,  from  one  thing  to 
another." 

Strong  man  that  he  was,  with  his  ro- 
bust joy  in  the  present  so  intense,  he 
smiled  at  the  saying  as  at  a  pretty  whim. 
"  I  don't  know,"  he  returned.  "  I 
don't  believe  I  care.  This  life  's  plenty 
good  enough  for  me." 

She  turned  to  him  then,  her  eyes  meet- 
ing his  calmly,  yet  with  a  question  in  their 
depths.  "  Good  enough? "  she  echoed. 
"  Do  you  find  it  so?  " 

"  I  have  never  wanted  anything  that  I 
thought  this  hfe  couldn't  give  me,"  he 
answered  honestly.     "  Yes,  tliis  life  suits 


The  Way  of  a  Man  1 1 5 

me,  through  and  through,  every  bit  of  it." 

"  You  don't  mean  that,"  she  said  with 
gentle  gravity.  "  The  bad  too,  and  all 
that  goes  wrong? " 

"  I  'm  human,"  he  returned  lightly. 
"  We  humans  need  some  bad  mixed  with 
the  good.  I  like  to  have  things  go 
wrong,  once  in  a  while,  because  that  gives 
me  a  chance  to  try  and  put  them  right 
again.  I  don't  want  to  think  too  much 
about  another  life,  while  I  'm  living  this 
one.  It  would  weaken  me.  I  should  n't 
care  enough  about  my  failures  here,  if  I 
kept  on  thinking  about  having  another 
life  to  straighten  them  out.  I  'd  rather 
do  that  now." 

"Ah!"  she  persisted.  "Do  you  find 
that  so  easy  to  do?     I  don't." 

"Easy?  No.  But  I  don't  want  to 
put  it  off  on  that  account,  hoping  it  will 
be  easier  by  and  by.  Oh,  things  get 
taken  care  of  pretty  well.  Why,  what  if 
I  'd  spent  yesterday  worrying  about  the 
hard  time  we  might  have  to-day,  getting 
the  train  started  and  the  rest :  I  'd  have 


ii6  The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

been  fooled  clear  through,  would  n't  I  ?  " 
He  smiled  down  upon  her  with  easy  as- 
surance. "  I  took  it  for  granted  that 
Frick  knew  what  he  was  doing ;  and  I  'm 
taking  it  for  granted  the  Almighty 
knows  what  He  's  about  too.  This  life  is 
to  get  things  done  in;  and  don't  you  sup- 
pose He  '11  let  us  do  what  He  wants  us 
to,  and  the  way  He  wants?" 

It  was  she  who  smiled  now  at  his  con- 
fident sophistry.  "Are  you  alwaj'^s  so 
willing,  then,  to  take  His  way?  Don't 
you  sometimes  prefer  just  your  own 
man's  way? " 

"  I  guess  maybe  that 's  so,"  he  laughed 
in  frank  confession.  "  But  I  like  to 
think  that  if  it  could  be  averaged  up  I  've 
done  more  good  than  bad.  I  don't  know 
whose  way  that  is — mine  or  His;  but  it 
suits  me." 

She  waited  for  a  little  time;  then  her 
speech  took  the  intimate  turn  he  had 
feared. 

"  There  is  my  brother,"  she  said 
gently.     "  Will  you  tell  me  something? 


The  Way  of  a  Man  117 

I  've  been  wondering  about  it.  If  I  were 
not  here,  and  you  had  only  yourself  and 
him  to  think  about,  what  would  you  do? " 

The  question  had  been  no  more  than 
a  deep  undercurrent  in  his  thoughts  be- 
fore ;  but  now  he  put  it  to  himself  frankly, 
and  was  sure  of  his  answer. 

"  You  asked  me  that  because  you  want 
to  know,"  he  said  steadily,  "  so  I  won't  lie 
to  you.  I  reckon  I  'd  have  followed  him 
up  till  I  found  him,  and  then  we  'd  have 
had  it  out  between  us,  somehow.  But  you 
are  here,  don't  you  see,  and  so — Oh, 
what's  the  use!"  and  he  flung  out  his 
strong  arms  with  a  gesture  of  dismissal. 
"  Don't  let 's  talk  about  that  any  more. 
We  can't  make  it  any  different  by  talk- 
ing. Let 's  just  think  it 's  going  to  come 
out  all  right." 

The  fire  had  fallen  low;  the  music  had 
ceased,  and  the  dancers  were  separating. 
He  walked  at  her  side  through  the  camp 
until  they  came  to  Cannon's  waggon. 
She  had  not  spoken  again  after  his  last 
brusque  word;  and  now  she  said  no  more 


1 1 8  The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

than  a  murmured  "  Good-night "  before 
she  left  him. 

A  shadow  was  over  his  thoughts,  as  he 
walked  slowly  on  to  his  own  waggon, 
dwelling  upon  what  had  passed  between 
them.  He  was  quite  sure  that  he  had  not 
said  the  right  things.  He  rolled  himself 
in  his  blankets  and  lay  down  upon  the 
ground  to  catch  a  little  sleep  before  mid- 
night, when  he  was  to  take  his  turn  for 
two  hours  with  a  camp  watch-  But, 
though  quiet  settled  all  around,  sleep 
would  not  come.  Now  and  again  an  ox 
lowed  on  its  pasture-ground  near  by; 
once,  from  afar,  came  the  thin,  shrill  wail 
of  a  solitary  wolf;  and  once  a  child  in 
one  of  the  emigrant  waggons  awoke  and 
cried. 

Save  for  these  fitful  sounds  there  was 
only  the  silence  of  the  prairie  night — not 
a  dead  but  a  living  silence.  Here  and 
there  through  the  camp  a  bed  of  embers 
glowed  faintly]  through  its  covering  of 
ash;  otherwise  there  was  no  light  save 
that  of  the  tranquil  stars. 


The  Way  of  a  Man  1 1 9 

He  lay  tossing  restlessly,  listening  with 
straining  ears,  staring  ^^ith  straining- 
eyes,  his  every  sense  over-wrought,  until 
the  time  came  when  he  must  go  on  watch. 
Then,  as  he  paced  his  arc  of  the  wide  cir- 
cle that  enclosed  the  camp,  with  his  rifle 
upon  his  shoulder,  his  agitation  went  ^^ith 
him.  He  could  not  make  it  out.  Once 
he  paused  in  his  w^alk,  leaning  with 
crossed  arms  upon  his  rifle,  look- 
ing away  across  the  dark  prairie;  and 
again  from  the  darkness  there  arose  be- 
fore him  the  semblance  of  a  SAveet,  gentle 
face,  the  lips  smihng,  the  eyes  shining 
with  a  duskj^  glory  from  beneath  a  thick 
confusion  of  fair  hair,  as  he  had  seen  her 
come  from  the  dance  with  Forrester.  But 
as  he  dwelt  upon  the  image,  suddenly  its 
happy  radiance  was  dimmed,  overcast  by 
sadness,  as  he  had  seen  her  at  the  last. 
He  took  up  his  walk  again  wdth  a  sigh. 

"God!"  he  brooded.  "It  looks  as 
though  things  are  going  to  be  different — 
somehow — after  this." 

At  the  end  of  another  day,  camp  was 


I20  The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

made  on  the  western  bank  of  the  Elk- 
horn  amongst  thick  masses  of  box-elder 
and  Cottonwood.  Some  of  the  emigrants 
had  pushed  on  ahead  of  the  train,  earlier 
in  the  day,  hunting,  and  were  waiting  on 
the  camp-ground  with  abundant  venison 
and  wild  fowl;  and  again  the  supper  horn- 
was  one  of  riotous  good  fellowship. 

But  Mark  felt  himself  apart  from  it. 
Throughout  the  day,  while  keeping  his 
slow  walk  over  the  dust  of  the  trail,  he 
had  been  thinking  deeply ;  yet  his  thoughts 
had  led  him  nowhere — only  around  and 
around,  like  one  lost  and  returning  over 
and  again  upon  his  course.  Now  he 
wished  to  be  alone,  and  taking  his  fishing- 
line  he  left  the  camp  in  the  early  evening, 
walking  up-stream  along  the  bank  until 
he  had  found  a  spot  whose  seclusion 
seemed  complete.  There,  when  his  line 
was  out,  he  sat  down  in  the  quiet  solitude. 

Though  he  tried  then  to  take  up  the 
thread  of  his  thought,  the  peaceful  beauty 
of  the  place  and  the  hour  continually 
checked  him,  luring  his  attention  away 


The  Way  of  a  Man  121 

from  himself.  On  either  bank  the  feath- 
ery tops  of  the  ehns  rose  high  against  the 
glowing  evening  sky,  swaying  in  the  light 
wind,  almost  meeting  in  a  wide  arch  above 
the  dark,  swift  water.  Whippoorwills 
were  calling  in  multitudinous  chorus;  a 
Httle  brown  owl  hooted  in  the  branches 
overhead;  the  valley  swam  with  trans- 
lucent shadows;  his  nook  was  hesivy  with 
wild  odours.  The  fish  bit  hungrily,  often 
his  line  occupied  him,  and  in  the  intervals 
he  could  do  no  more  than  look  on  at  the 
gay  processional  of  life  about  him,  list- 
ening to  its  myriad  voices,  his  senses  bath- 
ing in  its  quieting  influences.  The  effort 
of  fixing  his  attention  was  too  great,  and 
after  a  little  time  he  gave  it  up,  suffering 
himself  to  drift,  borne  by  pure  fancies. 

A  light  step  sounded  upon  the  bank 
above  him,  drawdng  slowly  nearer,  and  as 
though  summoned  by  his  desire  Dorothy 
Braidlaw  appeared.  Her  mood  seemed 
like  his  own,  preoccupied,  serious;  she  did 
not  see  him  until  she  was  close  upon  him; 
then  she  paused  with  a  startled  word. 


122  The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

"Oh!  I  didn't  know—"  She  would 
have  withdrawn  then,  but  he  called  to 
her: 

"  Please  don't  go.  Wait  until  I  can 
take  in  my  line,  and  let  me  go  back  with 
you.     I  want  to." 

She  stood  in  silent  assent  while  he 
coiled  the  line  and  drew  in  his  string  of 
fish.  When  he  stood  at  her  side  upon  the 
bank  his  haste  was  quickly  abated;  he  did 
not  offer  to  return  to  the  camp,  but  stood 
looking  about. 

"  Do  you  remember  what  you  said  last 
night,  about  wanting  things  to  last?  "  he 
asked.  "  But  now  are  n't  you  glad  that 
that  didn't  last?  Don't  you  think  this 
is  a  lot  more  beautiful?  " 

"  It  is  very  beautiful,"  she  answered 
gently ;  then :  "  Have  you  been  thinking  of 
that  too?  I  have,  all  day.  There  was  some- 
thing that  was  left  unsaid.  I  should  like 
to  say  it  now.    It 's — about  my  brother." 

He  would  have  stopped  her.  "  If  we 
talk  of  him,  I  '11  say  the  wrong  thing.  I 
did  last  night.     Can't  you  just  wait? " 


The  Way  of  a  Man  123 

She  shook  her  head.  "  No.  You  must 
understand.  You  spoke  of  its  being 
easy  to  set  wrong  right:  but  he  ran  away 
from  the  wrong  he  had  done.  I  mean 
to  find  him,  if  I  can.  If  I  do  find  him, 
he  won't  be  glad  to  see  me.  That  wdll 
make  it  very  hard." 

She  hesitated  then,  making  a  visible 
effort  for  composure. 

"  It 's  not  work  for  a  woman,"  he  said, 
almost  harshly. 

"Why  not?"  she  flashed.  "I  think 
it 's  because  I  'm  a  woman  that  I  'm  do- 
ing it.  If  I  were  a  man,  I  suppose  I 
should  let  him  go,  without  trying  to  find 
him  or  caring  what  became  of  him.  But 
I  shall  find  him,  and  if  we  live,  the  wrong 
he  did  you  will  be  made  right.  He  shall 
pay  it  all  back  to  you.  That 's  what  I 
want  you  to  know.  You  have  n't  let  me 
say  it  before." 

His  eyes  were  narrowed  and  his  lips 
were  parted  as  with  a  grimace  of  sud- 
den pain,  showing  his  strong,  white  teeth. 

"  I  wish  you  had  n't  said  it  at  all!  "  he 


124  The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

cried.  "  You  have  put  that  money  be- 
tween us — between  you  and  me.  Don't 
you  want  me  for  your  friend  any  more? " 

She  regarded  him  earnestly.  *'  I  do," 
she  said  simply.  "  I  am  sorry;  but  I 
had  to  tell  you,  whatever  it  cost.  Things 
couldn't  go  on  any  longer  without  an 
understanding.  We  must  go  back  now; 
it  is  getting  dark." 

The  darkness  seemed  to  have  fallen  all 
at  once.  It  was  not  the  clear  darkness 
of  early  night,  but  thick,  blue-black,  al- 
most palpable,  casting  everything  about 
them  into  dense  obscurity.  The  slow, 
languid  breeze  had  ceased,  and  there  was 
an  oppressive  calm.  Then  a  broad,  vivid, 
quivering  sheet  of  light  overspread  wood- 
land and  water,  reveahng  with  startling 
distinctness  every  leaf  and  ripple,  and 
quick  upon  the  flash  followed  the  hoarse, 
reverberant  roar  of  thunder  and  the  on- 
coming rush  of  the  storm-wind,  drawing 
nearer  and  nearer  until  it  swept  mightily 
through  the  close  masses  of  the  trees 
above,  beating  upon  them,  making  them 


The  Way  of  a  Man  125 

shrink  and  cower.  The  change  had 
come  with  the  violence  of  summer  storms 
upon  the  prairie,  catching  them  wholly 
unawares. 

"We'll  be  soaked  through!"  Mark 
shouted  above  the  tumult  of  the  wind. 
"  Can  you  run?  You  '11  have  to,  if  we 
miss  the  rain.  Come;  keep  close  to  me!  " 
He  started  toward  the  camp  with  his 
long,  strong  stride,  crushing  a  way 
through  the  thickets  that  bordered  the 
river,  trying  to  hold  them  aside  for  her. 
Another  white  flash  of  lightning  revealed 
her  running  blindly,  her  arms  crossed  be- 
fore her  face,  her  head  bent  as  if  in  terror, 

"Give  me  your  hand!"  he  cried,  and 
tried  to  lead  her  forward  at  a  quicker 
pace;  but  the  thick  brushwood  caught  at 
her  skirts  and  whipped  her  face,  and  her 
every  staggering  step  was  slow. 

"  I  'm  going  to  carry  you,"  he  shouted, 
and  lifted  her  in  his  arms,  holding  her 
against  him,  running  with  her  as  though 
her  weight  were  no  more  than  a  child's. 
Her  hands  were  clasped  about  his  neck; 


126  The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

her  supple  body  yielded  to  his  strength; 
the  wind  lifted  a  strand  of  her  soft  hair 
and  laid  it  across  his  cheek,  and  the  terror 
of  the  storm  became  as  nothing.  A  rap^ 
turous  courage  seized  him,  and  his  every 
fibre  thrilled  with  a  passionate  exultation, 
a  riotous,  wild  joy. 

Another  jagged  bolt  fell  very  near 
them,  mth  an  instantaneous,  deafening 
thunder-clap,  making  earth  and  air  rock 
and  tremble,  and  the  fury  of  the  wind  was 
demonic.  She  clung  to  him,  half  faint- 
ing, hiding  her  face  against  him.  The 
splendid  flash  had  shown  him  that  the 
bank  below  was  high  and  shelving  inward 
from  the  river's  wash,  and,  close  by,  the 
overhanging  roots  of  a  great  tree,  matted 
with  earth,  made  a  place  of  shelter.  Hold- 
ing her  close  in  his  powerful  clasp  he 
leaped  with  her  to  the  sandy  beach  below 
and  set  her  down  within  the  protection 
of  the  rude  roof,  where  she  was  safe  from 
wind  and  rain. 

The  shelter  was  too  small  to  cover  both ; 
but  he   wanted   none   of   it.     He   stood 


The  Way  of  a  Man  127 

erect  upon  the  sand,  baring  his  head, 
turning  his  face  upward.  The  wind  tore 
at  him,  buffeting  him  savagely;  the  rain 
broke  in  a  deluge,  beating  upon  him, 
drenching  him;  the  lightning  was  one 
incessant,  blinding  glare;  the  thunder 
w^as  one  unbroken,  deep-throated  roar; 
heaven  and  earth  seemed  crashing  to- 
gether. The  mad  frenzy  did  no  more 
than  exalt  his  soul ;  he  shouted  to  the  w  ind, 
as  though  it  must  understand.  He  was 
not  afraid;  a  very  ecstasy  possessed  him. 
The  river  was  torn  and  lashed  into  seeth- 
ing white  froth;  a  clump  of  lithe  young 
willows,  growing  at  the  water's  edge, 
bent  flat  to  the  foam;  a  giant  tree  upon 
the  bank  above  was  split  from  branches 
to  root  and  the  riven  half  fell  outward. 
He  saw  it  coming  and  sprang  aside  to 
avoid  its  crushing  weight,  falling  at  his 
length  upon  the  wet  sand.  But  he  got 
up  again,  laughing. 

The  storm  abated  as  quickly  as  it  had 
arisen,  and  there  was  left  only  the  soft, 
steady  fall  of  the  summer  rain,  growing 


128  The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

less  and  less  until  it  ceased  altogether. 
Mark  knelt  upon  the  sand  before  the  shel- 
ter where  Dorothy  sat  white  and  shaken. 
He  took  her  hand  and  helped  her  to  rise. 
Fear  had  not  yet  left  her;  her  hand  was 
cold  and  trembling.  He  kept  it  in  his 
firm,  warm  clasp,  comforting  it,  and 
would  not  let  it  go. 

"  Listen!  "  he  cried.  "  Girl,  you  must 
listen  to  me.  Nothing  can  come  between 
us — nothing !  "  Overmastered,  he  put 
one  strong  arm  about  her  slight  shoul- 
ders and  drew  her  to  him,  compelling  her 
to  rest  against  his  breast,  stooping  above 
her  until  his  lips  touched  her  hair. 

"Listen!"  he  cried  again.  "I  love 
you!  Dorothy!  I  love  you,  I  love  you, 
I  love  you! " 

For  the  space  of  three  hurried  heart- 
beats she  lay  quite  still  in  his  arms;  then 
with  a  cry  vibrant  with  terror  she  shrank 
from  him. 

"  Oh,  no,  no!  "  she  breathed.  "  Don't, 
don't!     You  must  let  me  go." 

He  freed  her  from  his  embrace,  but  her 


The  Way  of  a  Man  129 

hands  were  helpless  in  his.  His  deep 
voice  rang  with  passion. 

"  I  love  you!  "  he  exulted,  the  wonder 
and  the  joy  of  it  triumphant  over  him. 
"And  you  must  tell  me  that  you  love 
me." 

"You  hurt  me!"  she  gasped.  "You 
must  not.     Oh,  be  generous !  " 

Her  face  was  ashen-pale  in  the  dim 
light,  and  she  cowered  from  him  in  abject 
fright.  A  sudden  chill  touched  his  heart, 
and  he  let  her  hands  fall  from  his  grasp. 

"What  is  it?"  he  asked.  "Why  are 
you  afraid  of  me,  when  I  love  you? 
Don't  you  believe  it  ?  It 's  true  1  It 's 
the  truest  thing  in  the  world." 

"Hush!"  she  pleaded.  "How  cruel 
you  are." 

"Cruel?"  he  echoed.  "Cruel,  when 
I  love  you  so?  Why  do  you  say  that? 
Is  it  because  you  don't  love  me?  " 

She  turned  away  from  him,  sobbing, 
shaken  by  a  tumult  of  feeling.  He  let 
her  be  until  she  grew  quieter,  while  his 
wits  were  groping. 


130  The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

"Is  it  because  you  don't  love  me? "  he 
repeated.     "  You  must  tell  me  that." 

"Oh,  don't  make  me  say  it!"  she 
begged.  "  You  have  been  so  good  to 
me;  and  now — it  is  all  so  different." 

He  waited  for  a  little  time,  trying  to 
understand.  Then  he  spoke  the  man's 
word : 

"Dorothy,  is  there  somebody  else?" 

"Please,  please!"  she  cried  miserably, 
and  put  out  her  hand  to  him  impulsively. 
He  took  it  again  in  his  and  hfted  it 
gently  to  his  lips. 

"  I  love  you,"  he  said  again.  "  No- 
thing can  make  that  any  different  now — 
you  can't,  nor  I  can't.  I  'm  going  to 
keep  on  loving  you,  because  I  can't  help 
it.  And  I  'm  going  to  try  to  make  you 
love  me.     You  can't  deny  me  that." 

She  stopped  him  with  a  pleading 
gesture. 

"  I  won't  say  any  more  now,"  he  said. 
"  But  you  must  n't  think  I  'm  giving  you 
up,  just  when  I  've  found  out  what  love 
is.      You  '11    remember    what    I  've    told 


The  Way  of  a  Man  131 

you;  and  I  'm  going  to  tell  you  again — 
I  'm  going  to  keep  on  telling  you,  till  I 
know  for  sure  it  can't  do  any  good.  This 
is  what  I  want  you  to  remember:  All  the 
man  there  is  in  me  loves  you.  The  man 
in  me  knows  you  're  mine,  and  I  'm  go- 
ing to  try  to  make  you  belong  to  me. 
Now  we  '11  go  back  to  camp." 


THE    BATTLE 

J\  A ILE  by  mile,  day's  journey  upon 
^  '  ^  day's  journey,  the  train  moved  on 
its  way,  passing  from  the  lower  levels  of 
the  humid  valley,  over  the  billo^^y  roll  of 
the  prairie,  onward  toward  the  heart  of  the 
great  Plains.  By  and  by,  as  they  settled 
to  their  work,  the  men's  first  excited 
eagerness  was  curiously  softened.  One 
day  was  hardly  to  be  distinguished  from 
another  by  varied  events  or  shifting  in- 
terests; all  went  forward  in  smooth,  si- 
lent, tranquil  order,  steady  as  the  rhythmic 
s\\dng  of  a  great  pendulum;  dawn  suc- 
ceeding night,  noon  following  dawn,  dusk 
flowing  softly  over  the  day,  and  then  night 
again,  unwaiting,  unhastening,  in  Divine 
method.  Yet  there  was  in  the  minds  of 
the  men  no  sense  of  tedium,  no  effect  of 
132 


The  Battle  133 

monotonous  endurance.  Their  task  lay 
plain  before  them,  and  each  day  marked 
a  definite  measure  of  accomplishment. 
Change  would  come  soon  enough ;  for  the 
present,  it  seemed  as  though  passionate 
desire  drowsed  under  a  spell  of  profound 
content. 

The  men  of  the  train  were  from  many 
and  various  places  in  life.  Some  had 
come  from  the  farms  of  the  East;  some 
had  been  townsmen ;  but  here  they  met  on 
common  ground  of  understanding  and 
purpose.  Only  a  few  knew  the  Plains 
hfe;  far  the  greater  number  were  mere 
novices  in  plainscraft,  novices  in  frontier- 
ing.  Hitherto  they  had  measured  their 
conduct  by  rule  and  precept,  by  statute 
and  grave  decision — by  the  scheme  of 
civilisation's  law ;  but  now,  within  the  brief 
span  of  a  few  miles  and  a  few  days,  they 
felt  themselves  sharply  separated  from  all 
that,  thrown  back  at  once  upon  the  first 
ancient  resources  of  the  race — common 
honour  and  common  dependence,  each 
upon  every  other.     Law  and  order,  the 


134  The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

proud  boast  of  the  older  communities, 
were  here  no  more  than  words.  Out  on 
the  open  earth,  under  the  open  skj%  thej^ 
had  sloughed  the  straitening  limitations 
of  habit  and  use,  and  only  the  primal 
man  remained,  eager  for  the  things  that 
made  up  the  sum  of  man's  life  before 
rules  w^ere  born. 

]\Iore  and  more,  as  the  days  passed, 
Mark  was  made  to  feel  that  his  life  was 
broadening,  deepening.  He  did  not  look 
too  closely  at  the  roots  of  his  content ;  that 
he  could  not  do,  and  would  not  if  he  could- 
The  days  sufficed.  More  and  more  the 
robust  companionship  with  the  men  was 
strengthening  him,  satisfying  him.  And 
better  still,  infinitely  sweet  and  tender, 
was  the  presence  of  his  great  love. 

What  had  passed  between  him  and 
Dorothy  had  given  him  no  dismay;  the 
power  to  feel  dismay  was  not  a  part 
of  him.  Since  love  had  come  to  him,  it 
had  dominated  him,  its  might  supreme. 
Life  lay  gloriously  opening  before  him, 
an   uncurtained  vista.     He  was  content 


The  Battle  135 

to  wait,  being  sure  of  himself  and  his  love, 
every  passing  day  bringing  some  new 
revelation  of  his  love's  loveliness.  At  his 
work  he  thought  of  her,  and  when  night 
came,  bringing  him  freedom,  the  waking 
hours  were  passed  where  his  eyes  could 
dwell  upon  her,  seeking  new  tokens  of 
her  grace  that  would  fill  the  hours  of 
labour  with  a  sense  of  comfort  and 
completeness. 

Nor  was  he  distressed  at  seeing  that  she 
timorously  avoided  him,  so  that  he  lost 
the  delight  of  their  old,  frank  intimacy, 
That  he  could  well  endure,  for  the  sake  ol 
the  greater  delight,  in  which  all  others 
were  swallowed  up.  Once,  watching  his 
chance,  he  came  upon  her  alone  and 
would  not  let  her  escape. 

"  You  need  n't  be  afraid  of  me,"  he 
said,  when  he  saw  in  her  eyes  the  look  of 
a  hunted  creature.  "  I  'm  not  going  to 
try  to  hurry  you.  It 's  coming  out  all 
right,  some  time.  I  know  it ;  and  that 's 
all  I  want  to  know  now.  This  is  what 
I  've   been   thinking :    You   need   me,    as 


136  The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

much  as  I  need  you.  The  very  first  time 
I  talked  to  you,  you  wondered  if  you 
could  find  the  shadow  of  a  rock  out  here 
in  this  desert.  I  'm  going  to  be  that  rock 
for  3'ou,  by  and  by,  when  you  need  me 
most,  and  my  love  will  be  the  cool  shadow. 
You  think  about  that.  Don't  be  fright- 
ened ;  that 's  all  I  'm  going  to  say  now. 
The  rest  can  wait." 

Forrester  had  taken  no  fixed  place  in 
the  work  of  the  train;  there  seemed  to  be 
no  place  for  him.  For  most  of  the  time 
he  was  in  the  saddle,  occasionally  riding 
ahead  with  Frick  to  discover  the  difficul- 
ties of  the  trail,  or  joining  sometimes 
with  the  hunters — occupying  himself  as 
he  would.  Now  and  then,  obedient  to 
impulse,  he  would  saddle  one  of  the  led 
horses  and  take  Dorothy  for  a  gallop 
over  the  hills  along  the  trail.  She  was  an 
excellent  horsewoman.  On  some  days 
they  would  be  gone  for  hours,  meeting  the 
train  as  it  advanced,  or  overtaking  it  in  its 
slow  progress;  and  always  Dorothy  re- 
turned with  heightened  colour  and  fresh- 


The  Battle  137 

ened  beauty.  So  much  Mark  saw,  but 
almost  without  heeding. 

Even  the  signs  of  change  in  Forrester 
he  missed,  or,  seeing,  passed  lightly  by. 
They  were  not  such  changes  as  boldly 
proclaim  themselves.  Outwardly  the 
bo}'-  bore  his  old  unruffled  air,  through 
which  no  disclosure  came.  A  quieter  dig- 
nity was  upon  him — something  subtler 
than  word  or  act.  Only  once  did  an  out- 
right sign  discover  itself,  when  after  a 
difficult  day  Frick  passed  whiskey  to  the 
men,  toasting  the  luck  of  the  train:  Mark 
saw  Forrester  raise  his  cup  to  his  lips  and 
then  quietly  spill  the  untasted  liquor  on 
the  ground. 

"Jack!"  he  cried.  "Throwing  whis- 
key away !  " 

Forrester  flushed.  "Guilty!"  he  re- 
turned with  his  light  laugh.  "  I  don't 
want  to  hurt  Frick's  feelings ;  but  it 's 
villainous  poor  stuff.  I  'm  saving  my 
thirst   for  something  better." 

Little  by  little,  almost  imperceptibly, 
the  land  had  changed  from  the  fair,  lux- 


138  The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

uriant  aspect  of  the  Missouri  Valley,  as 
day  by  day  the  train  had  moved  up  the 
low,  steady  incline  of  the  prairie  toward 
the  far  mountains.  The  river  had  grown 
less,  the  grasses  along  the  waj^  were  of 
new  kinds;  the  hill-slopes  at  the  edges  of 
the  valley  were  filmed  with  the  silver-grey 
of  the  first  wild  sage ;  the  beds  of  the  little 
tributary  streams  held  only  dry  sand,  and 
the  thick  growths  of  elm  and  oak,  so 
common  below,  had  given  place  to 
sparse  clumps  of  cottonwood  and  willov/, 
that  stood  3"ellowed  and  enfeebled  by  the 
dry  heat.  There  was  an  indescribable 
new  feeling  in  the  air,  a  new  aspect 
upon  the  distances;  lungs  must  breathe 
deeper  and  eyes  accustom  themselves  to 
clearer  vision.  At  night  the  very  stars 
seemed  nearer,  almost  within  arm's 
reach. 

For  no  apparent  reason,  Frick  had  as- 
sumed a  greater  vigilance.  Often  dur- 
ing the  day  he  would  ride  to  the  hilltops 
beside  the  trail,  for  a  careful  survey  of 
the  country  around;  and  always  at  night 


The  Battle  139 

a  closer  watch  was  kept  upon  the  grazing 
beasts.  Every  man  was  armed  with  rifle 
and  pistols  and  full  belts  of  cartridges, 
and  bj^  day  and  night  the  arms  were  or- 
dered kept  within  easjr  reach.  Some  of 
the  men  affected  to  scoff  at  these  w^arlike 
signs,  but  Frick  was  grave. 

"  We  're  in  the  Sioux  country,"  he  said 
simply.  "I'm  not  borrowing  trouble; 
but  we  must  be  ready." 

Then  one  day  Forrester  and  Dorothy 
were  away  together,  following  the  open 
trail  in  advance  of  the  train,  riding  at  an 
easy  pace  in  the  mid-day  heat.  After  a 
time  Mark  saw  them  halt,  and  presently 
Forrester  dismounted,  stooping  over 
something  on  the  sand.  When  the  train 
came  up  to  them,  Dorothy's  cheeks  were 
very  pale,  her  eyes  wide  with  wonder  and 
fear.  At  the  side  of  the  trail  lay  the 
charred  and  broken  fragments  of  a  wag- 
gon in  a  heap  of  ashes,  with  a  few  poor  bits 
of  household  stuff  scattered  near.  The 
ground  all  around  was  thickly  trampled, 
with  signs  of  a  recent  camp;  and  Forres- 


HO  The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

ter  held  in  his  hand  a  score  of  empty  cart- 
ridges and  a  broken  arrow-shaft.  Close 
by  were  three  low  mounds  upon  the  sand, 
marked  by  rude  headboards  on  which 
names  were  rudely  cut,  with  a  date,  and 
the  added  words,  "  Killed  by  the  Sioux." 
The  date  was  only  two  weeks  past.  It 
was  their  first  encounter  with  Plains 
tragedy. 

"God  Almighty!"  Frick  cried,  with 
a  fervour  that  made  the  words  more  a 
prayer  than  an  oath.  "  One  of  them  was 
a  woman,  too." 

When  the  train  had  passed,  Forrester 
kept  at  Mark's  side,  leading  his  horse,  an 
unwonted  seriousness  upon  him.  Mark 
thought  him  brooding  upon  what  they 
had  seen;  but  presently  the  boy  spoke 
abruptly. 

"  Mark,  tell  me  this :  Is  there  anything 
between  you  and  Dorothy  Braidlaw? " 

Mark  faced  him  with  a  start,  regarding 
him  fixedly,  wonderingly,  a  strange  stir 
at  his  heart.     "Anything — "  he  echoed. 

Forrester  gave  a  short,  mirthless  laugh. 


The  Battle  141 

"  Oh,  I  'm  not  blind!  "  he  cried.  "  I  have 
seen  what  she  is  to  you,  from  the  very 
first.  That  part 's  plain  enough.  But 
has  she  told  you  she  loves  you?  " 

The  point-blank  question  had  the  force 
of  a  blow.  Mark  had  to  wait  to  com- 
mand himself  before  he  could  answer. 

"  No,"  he  said  at  last,  bluntly. 
"  What 's  got  into  you?  "  He  divined 
the  reply,  yet  he  waited  breathlessly  for 
the  words,  which  came  at  once. 

*'  I  had  to  ask  you.  I  could  n't  talk  to 
her  without  knowing.  And  I  wanted  to 
be  honest  mth  you.  I  've  seen  a  lot  of 
her,  Mark.  She 's  a  woman  amongst 
millions — she  's  the  one  woman  I  've  seen 
who  meant  anything  to  me.    I  want  her." 

The  calm  voice  sounded  to  Mark's  ears 
far-off  and  strange;  the  wide  plain  before 
his  eyes  appeared  as  a  vague  blur;  he  felt 
the  blood  surge  from  his  heart  and  pound 
in  his  brain.  In  a  flash  the  past  days  were 
marshalled  before  him,  and  he  thought 
he  understood.  The  realisation  stunned 
him;  he  was  like  one  who  has  received  a 


142  The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

sudden  wound,  and  whose  shocked  and 
disordered  senses  cannot  take  full  account 
of  the  hurt.  Renunciation  had  never 
been  his  part  in  hfe,  and  the  contempla- 
tion was  bitter.  It  was  his  rugged  men- 
tal faith,  not  his  heart,  which  answered. 

*'  If  you  want  her,  what  are  you  wait- 
ing for?     Tell  her!" 

Forrester's  eyes  were  fixed  upon  him; 
but  the  man's  face  was  inscrutable. 

"  I  know  you  love  her,"  Forrester  said 
gently.  "That  makes  it  hard.  But  so 
do  I.  She  has  possessed  me.  If  she 
has  n't  given  herself  to  you,  then  I  must 
go  on.  I  can't  help  myself.  I  shall  tell 
her  to-morrow." 

He  put  out  his  hand;  but  Mark,  star- 
ing straight  ahead,  did  not  see.  He 
touched  the  man's  shoulder  lightly,  but 
Mark  did  not  heed.  After  a  moment  he 
turned  away  sadly. 

"I  shall  tell  her  to-morrow!"  When 
he  was  gone,  his  words  remained.  ]\Iark 
kept  repeating  them  to  himself,  over  and 
over,  until  they  beat  in  his  brain  hke  a 


The  Battle  i43 

pulse,  with  a  dull,  recurrent  throb  full  of 
passionate  pain.  The  strength  of  his 
manhood,  quickening  hke  a  new-con- 
ceived life,  cried  that  desire  might  meet 
fulfilment,  that  love  might  have  its  way; 
but  with  grim,  fierce  rage  at  himself  he 
beat  the  thought  down.  He  followed  no 
beaten  path  of  reasoning;  but  by  a  blind, 
headlong  leap  of  instinct  he  thought  he 
understood. 

"God!"  he  groaned,  and  opened  his 
arms  wide,  as  if  to  let  his  love  go. 

When  the  next  day  came,  Forrester 
rode  away  with  Dorothy  after  the  noon- 
time camp  was  broken.  Frick  called  af- 
ter them  anxiously: 

"Careful,  Jack!      Don't  be  foolish." 

Forrester  waved  his  hand  in  reassur- 
ance. "  We  sha'n't  go  far,"  he  said. 
"  We  sha'n't  lose  sight  of  you." 

For  a  time  they  held  to  the  trail  ahead ; 
then  they  turned  off  to  the  hills.  Mark 
watched  them,  a  dull  ache  at  his  heart,  un- 
til they  passed  from  view  between  the  roll- 
ing bluffs.     Though  he  kept  his  lookout, 


144  The  vShadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

they  did  not  reappear.  The  afternoon 
dragged  away  and  the  sun  fell  low,  man- 
tling the  valley  with  the  shadows  of  the 
hills.  Then  the  forms  of  two  riders  came 
in  sight  upon  a  near  crest,  sharply  sil- 
houetted against  the  sky.  ^lark  breathed 
a  sigh  of  rehef ;  but  in  the  next  moment 
relief  gave  place  to  a  sudden  qualm  of 
fear.  Those  were  ponies,  and  not  the 
large,  strong  horses  of  the  train.  Strain- 
ing his  eyes,  he  made  out  that  one  of  the 
riders  Avore  a  feathered  headdress,  and 
that  both  w^ere  men. 

He  shouted  to  Frick,  pointing  to  the 
hill;  and  on  the  instant  the  two  began  to 
descend  into  the  valley,  crossing  swiftly 
toward  the  train,  coming  alongside  and 
bringing  their  ponies  to  a  stand. 

They  were  of  another  type  than  the 
tribes  earlier  encountered  along  the  trail; 
a  finer  type  physically,  their  clean-lined 
bodies  and  limbs  of  a  perfect  mould. 
Both  were  quite  naked  save  for  breech- 
cloth  and  moccasins,  their  bodies  and  faces 
painted    grotesquely    in    brilliant    hues. 


The  Battle  145 

Both  sat  their  beasts  hke  horsemen  horn, 
hthe,  erect,  their  movements  flowing  into 
those  of  the  animals.  But  it  was  their 
faces  that  distinguished  them  most  of  all 
— hard,  fierce,  cruel  faces,  with  something 
Satanic  in  their  w^de,  thin  lips  and  rest- 
less, unrelenting  eyes.  They  w^re  of  the 
Sioux,  for  a  century  the  scourge  of  the 
Plains. 

One  of  the  teamsters  spoke  the  Sioux 
tongue,  and  him  Frick  summoned. 

"  They  say  they  're  scouts  of  a  war 
party  that 's  out  after  a  band  of  Paw- 
ness,"  the  man  interpreted.  "  They  say 
the  Pawnees  came  up  to  steal  ponies  and 
got  away  with  a  big  bunch,  and  the  Sioux 
are  following.  The  main  party  is  off 
south  in  the  hills." 

"  Plain,  damned  lies,  most  likely," 
Frick  commented  bluntly.  "  But  let 
them  alone  and  see  what  they  do.  Watch 
them;  that 's  all." 

The  Sioux  rode  for  a  little  way  at  the 
front  of  the  train,  but  checking  their 
ponies  skilfully  and  so  falling  back  little 
10 


14^  The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

by  little,  letting  the  train  go  past  them, 
while  they  observed  it  with  a  hawklike 
scrutiny,  taking  silent  account  of  its 
every  detail  of  men  and  arms.  At  last, 
when  they  had  dropped  quite  to  the  rear, 
they  wheeled  their  ponies  suddenly  and 
sped  like  the  wind  back  to  the  hills. 

"  I  don't  like  it,"  Frick  said  uneasily. 
"  It  looks  bad.  We  '11  make  camp  early 
to-night.  Has  Jack  come  in  yet? 
What 's  the  matter  with  him?  Ah,  look 
there!     Look!" 

Far  ahead,  at  the  south  of  the  trail, 
showing  dark  against  the  gold  of  the 
evening  sun,  rose  a  column  of  signal 
smoke — mounting  and  mounting,  then 
hanging  black  and  ominous  in  the  still 
air.  Frick  sat  watching  it,  his  anxiety 
rising  with  it. 

"  I  wish  Jack  were  here,"  he  said. 

"  Frick!  "  Mark  called  sharply.  "  Let 
me  have  a  horse,  and  send  somebody  to 
look  after  my  waggon." 

"What  are  you  going  to  do?"  Frick 
asked. 


The  Battle  147 

"  I  'm  going  to  see  where  Jack  is," 
Mark  answered.  He  would  not  listen  to 
remonstrance  nor  accept  any  offer  of 
company.  "  I  can  take  care  of  myself," 
he  insisted.  "  One  man's  as  good  as  a 
dozen  for  this,  unless  we  find  there 's 
something  wrong." 

"  Go  ahead,"  Frick  said  grimly. 
"  We  '11  camp  right  here." 

jNIark  flung  himself  into  the  saddle,  and 
his  strong  horse  swung  into  a  long,  free 
gallop  toward  the  hills.  Already  the  full 
light  of  da}?-  was  gone,  and  under  the 
bluffs  the  shadows  w^ere  thickening.  He 
urged  his  beast  to  a  quicker  pace,  eager 
to  save  every  moment  of  daylight  that 
remained. 

From  the  first  crest  he  swept  the  wide 
prospect  with  a  hasty  sun^ey.  Nothing 
w^as  in  sight  save  a  foreground  of  bare 
hills,  their  tops  catching  the  last  of  the 
sunlight,  the  hollows  between  lying  in  a 
gray  half -dusk;  and  beyond  lay  a  limit- 
less bare  plain,  stretching  flat  and  deso- 
late.    No  living  creature  was  in  sight. 


148  The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

He  turned  to  the  eastward,  keeping  as 
well  as  he  could  ujDon  the  high  places. 
For  two  miles  he  rode  at  his  horse's  best 
speed.  Then  from  one  of  the  higher 
summits  he  caught  sight  of  those  he 
sought,  a  half-mile  away,  at  the  bottom  of 
the  vale  below,  and  with  a  shout  he  gal- 
loped down  to  them. 

They  had  dismounted  and  were  stand- 
ing near  together,  suffering  their  horses 
to  graze  idly  about,  with  reins  trailing. 
Their  isolation  seemed  complete,  as 
though  the  world  held  them  only.  As 
Mark  drew  nearer,  the  grazing  animals 
lifted  their  heads,  whinnying ;  but  the  man 
and  the  woman  did  not  heed.  Forrester 
stood  erect,  with  folded  arms,  and  Doro- 
thy's head  was  bent  before  him  while  she 
listened,  intent. 

Again  he  shouted  to  them,  and  they 
drew  apart,  startled,  and  stood  waiting 
until  he  pulled  up  beside  them.  Then 
his  pent  feeling  flashed  out  in  hot  anger. 

"  Jack!  You  fool!  What  kind  of  a  man 
are  you,  to  put  a  woman  in  such  danger?  " 


The  Battle  149 

"  Danger?"  Forrester  returned.  "  What 
is  it?" 

"There!"  He  pointed  to  the  signal 
smoke,  that  still  hung  faint  in  the  west. 
"  You  ought  to  have  seen  that.  It 's  the 
Sioux.  There  's  a  war  party  watching 
us;  a  couple  of  their  scouts  were  at  the 
train  onty  half  an  hour  ago.  We  're 
in  for  some  trouble  before  morning. 
Don't  stand  there,  man !  Get  your  horses, 
quick." 

Forrester  ran  toward  the  beasts,  a  few 
yards  away;  but  his  impetuous  haste  gave 
them  alarm  and  they  would  not  be  caught, 
shying  away  from  him  and  circling  about, 
then  striking  into  a  quicker  pace  and  mov- 
ing off  toward  the  hills  to  the  southward. 
Mark  joined  in  the  chase;  but  the  two, 
riderless  and  with  empty  stirrups  beating 
their  sides,  seemed  thoroughly  frightened. 
It  needed  but  a  little  time  to  prove  that 
the  pursuit  must  be  long.  He  turned 
his  horse  back  to  where  Forrester  stood 
with  Dorothj",  and  thi'ew  himself  from  his 
saddle. 


150  The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

"  There 's  no  time  to  lose,"  he  said 
harshly.  "  This  horse  '11  carry  you  both. 
I  '11  catch  one  of  yours.  Get  up,  Jack, 
quick!" 

Forrester  flashed  a  swift  look  upon 
him,  then  drew  away. 

"  Quick,  you  idiot ! "  Mark  shouted. 
"  Get  up!  I  '11  help  Dorothy  up  behind 
you.  Camp 's  two  miles  above.  Cut 
straight  out  to  the  trail  and  follow  it. 
Damn  you,  Jack!  what  are  you  waiting 
for? "  In  a  rage  of  impatience  he  seized 
Forrester  in  his  arms  and  lifted  him  bod- 
ily toward  the  saddle;  but  Forrester 
pulled  from  his  grasp. 

"No,"  he  said,  "I'll  not  take  your 
horse." 

With  a  furious  oath  Mark  sprang  again 
to  the  beast's  back  and  bent  down,  hold- 
ing his  hand  to  Dorothy.  "  Help  her. 
Jack,"  he  said  between  his  set  teeth,  and 
she  was  lifted  to  a  seat  behind  him. 
"  Put  your  arms  around  me,"  he  com- 
manded; and  she  obeyed  at  once.  She 
had  not  spoken  since  his  appearance;  she 


The  Battle  151 

had  made  no  outcry,  given  no  sign  of 
fear,  but  he  felt  her  body  trembling 
against  his  own. 

"  Here,  take  my  rifle,"  he  said  to  For- 
rester. "  Go  down  to  the  river,  and  keep 
under  the  bank,  in  the  willows.  Watch 
for  me.  If  nothing  happens,  I  '11  come 
back  with  another  horse." 

Coming  out  of  the  hills  into  the  open 
valley,  INIark  could  see  the  camp  lying 
white  in  the  distance — that  only,  and  over 
the  rest  of  the  land  a  brooding  quiet. 
He  spoke  briefly  to  the  girl,  to  reassure 
her,  and  lashed  his  horse  into  a  run. 

He  had  covered  the  better  part  of  the 
way,  and  was  beginning  to  blame  himself 
for  nursing  a  needless  fear,  when  there 
arose  from  off  to  the  left  a  cry,  shrill, 
many-voiced,  menacing.  Along  the  sky- 
line of  the  bluffs  horsemen  were  massed, 
a  hundred  strong,  in  quick,  excited  mo- 
tion, and  as  JNIark  looked  the  foremost 
rank  of  the  riders  dropped  over  the  bluff's 
edge,  the  others  foUow^ing,  a  dusls^'-,  liv- 
ing cataract,  charging  down  upon  them. 


152  The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

A  groan  escaped  Mark's  lips.  "  Hold 
tight!  "  he  cried,  and  with  pounding  heels 
and  tense,  straining  voice  he  brought  his 
labouring  horse  to  its  utmost  speed.  More 
than  half  a  mile  lay  between  them  and 
safety.  He  saw  that  he  would  gain  at 
least  a  small  lead  for  the  last  dash ;  for  the 
Sioux  must  cut  obliquely  across  the  in- 
tervening space  between  the  hills  and  the 
trail  to  overtake  them.  But  so  slight  an 
advantage  might  avail  them  nothing.  He 
could  feel  that  under  the  double  burden 
the  horse's  stride  was  growing  less  sure, 
its  breath  coming  in  ragged,  gasping 
bursts.  Two  hundred  yards  was  too  nar- 
row a  margin  for  security. 

A  rifle  cracked,  there  in  the  rear,  and 
then  others,  in  an  irregular  volley.  No 
harm  was  done;  but  Mark  heard  the  vi- 
cious singing  of  the  balls  as  they  flew  about 
him.  Dorothy  was  in  greater  danger 
than  he.  Knowing  this,  he  turned  and 
caught  her  with  one  arm  about  her  waist. 
*'  Let  go!  "  he  ordered,  and  swung  her  to 
a  seat  in  front  of  the  saddle  horn,  keeping 


The  Battle  153 

his  hold  upon  her  there,  clasping  her 
against  him,  sitting  erect  to  make  a  shield 
for  her  with  his  big  body. 

They  were  nearing  the  end  now.  He 
could  see  the  figures  of  the  men  standing 
by  the  waggons  with  rifles  in  hand.  The 
pursuers  were  keeping  on  with  their  hap- 
hazard firing.  At  the  very  last  he  was 
hit;  his  hat  was  carried  away;  he  felt  a 
sharp  sting  of  pain  where  the  ball  cut 
along  his  scalp,  and  the  warm  blood 
flowed  over  his  cheek.  Then  from  the 
camp  he  heard  a  command  shouted  in 
Cannon's  huge  voice:  "  Fire! "  and  forty 
rifles  flashed  together.  A  cheer  mingled 
with  the  echoes  that  rolled  back  from  the 
hills.  The  Sioux  had  followed  too  far. 
Turning  for  one  quick  backward  look, 
Mark  saw  that  they  had  swerved  from 
their  course,  sweeping  off  to  the  left  in  a 
wide  circle.  A  wounded  pony  was 
plunging  upon  its  knees,  struggling  to 
rise,  and  three  bodies  were  tumbled  shape- 
less on  the  sand  of  the  trail.  And  here 
was  safety. 


154  The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

The  hasty  camp  had  been  well  con- 
trived. The  waggons  were  drawn  together 
at  the  side  of  the  trail  in  a  half-circle,  its 
base  opening  toward  the  river,  whence  lit- 
tle danger  was  to  be  feared.  Against  the 
wheels  and  in  the  spaces  between  the  wag- 
gons were  piled  boxes  and  bales  taken 
from  the  loads,  and  within  this  rough 
barricade  the  oxen  and  horses  had  been 
gathered  and  secured.  At  the  centre  of 
the  camp  were  the  women  and  children, 
encircled  by  piles  of  freight.  The  place 
was  strong  for  defence;  the  faces  of  the 
men  were  alight  with  eager  excitement. 

Mark's  wound  was  slight.  When  he 
had  given  Dorothy,  white  and  half -faint- 
ing, into  Mrs.  Cannon's  arms,  he  went  to 
the  river  and  washed  the  blood  away; 
then  returned  to  where  the  men  lay,  be- 
hind the  barricade,  and  told  of  what  had 
befallen.  Frick  heard  him  in  silence;  but 
Cannon  was  less  contained.  Moisture 
stood  in  beads  upon  his  face ;  the  cord-like 
veins  of  his  neck  and  forehead  were  swol- 
len,   and   his   coarse   red   beard   bristled. 


The  Battle  155 

While  JMark  spoke,  the  giant  was  chant- 
ing a  string  of  rugged  oaths,  as  though 
he  were  saying  over  a  litany. 

"  I  'm  going  back  to  see  what 's  become 
of  Jack,"  Mark  said  at  the  last.  "  He  's 
afoot  out  there  somewhere."  But  Frick 
shook  his  head. 

"  No,"  he  said.  "  What  good  would  it 
do,  in  the  dark?  If  they  haven't  found 
him,  he  '11  take  care  of  himself ;  and  if 
they  have  found  him,  one  man  could  n't 
do  anything,  nor  twenty,  likely.  We 
can't  spare  enough.  It 's  hard ;  but 
here  's  where  we  're  needed  most.  We  're 
not  done  with  them  yet.  They  '11  come 
back  again  before  morning.  All  we  can 
do  is  to  wait." 

But  the  waiting  proved  weary.  A  tiny 
fire  was  kindled  at  the  river's  edge,  for 
making  coffee;  then  the  blaze  was  extin- 
guished for  safety,  leaving  the  camp  in 
total  darkness.  After  the  hasty  supper, 
eaten  where  they  lay  upon  the  ground, 
the  men  fell  into  a  watchful  quiet,  with  a 
curious  commingling  of  courage  and  fear. 


156  The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

Only  two  or  tliree  of  the  company  had 
had  experience  with  savage  warfare;  for 
the  others,  anything  that  might  come 
would  be  a  surprise.  As  the  hours  passed, 
here  and  there  one  drowsed  lightly  upon, 
his  arms,  and  now  and  then  there  w^as  a 
fitful  murmur  of  speech;  but  outside 
the  camp  the  gloom  and  silence  were 
profound. 

Midnight  came  and  Forrester  had  not 
appeared.  Mark's  anxietj^  for  the  boy 
was  mounting  high;  yet  when  he  com- 
pelled himself  to  think  coolly  of  the 
chances,  he  felt  that  he  was  impotent  to 
aid.  What  had  befallen,  these  two  days, 
had  put  a  new  and  curious  aspect  upon 
the  things  that  made  his  life;  his  hopeful 
contriving,  his  stanch  desires,  had  come 
to  naught;  will  and  purpose  seemed 
numbed.  Ever  and  again,  as  he  laj''  in  his 
place,  there  arose  before  him  the  picture 
of  Dorothy  and  Forrester,  as  he  had  seen 
them  standing  together  in  the  heart  of 
the  evening  solitude,  and  the  image  stung 
him  with  passionate  pain.     Once  he  crept 


The  Battle  157 

softly  to  the  place  where  the  women  and 
children  were  sheltered,  hopeful  of  a 
word  with  Dorothy ;  but  he  could  not  find 
her  in  the  darkness  and  after  a  moment 
he  returned  to  Ms  post  and  lay  down  again 
to  liis  dull  waiting.  His  nerves  were 
strung  to  the  point  of  snapping;  every 
least  sound — the  tramping  of  the  beasts 
near  by,  or  the  stir  of  the  rising  night 
wind  in  the  dried  grasses — made  him 
start. 

Suddenly,  past  midnight,  one  of  the 
men  near  him  gave  a  startled  cry: 

"Look  there — west!  They're  going 
to  burn  us  out! " 

Two  or  three  hundred  yards  away,  and 
to  the  windward,  showed  a  flare  of  yel- 
low flame  in  the  wild  grass,  rising  lazily, 
then  bending  lightly  before  the  breeze. 
Then  another  appeared,  and  another, 
spreading  out  slowly  until  they  were 
joined  in  a  low  line,  gathering  in  volume 
momentarily,  making  a  little  isle  of  light 
in  the  enveloping  darkness.  The  danger 
was  apparent  enough;  the  grass  at  the 


158  The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

riverside,  where  the  waggons  were,  was 
tliick  and  tall  and  powder-dry. 

"  Quick,  boys!  "  Frick  shouted.  "  Pull 
up  the  grass  around  the  waggons,  outside 
here — quick! " 

They  set  to  work  with  all  their 
strength,  baring  a  strip  of  earth  at  the 
western  side  of  the  camp,  to  make  a  bar- 
rier against  the  approach  of  the  fire. 
Some  of  the  women  came  from  their 
shelter  to  help,  and  others  brought  sheets 
of  canvas,  soaked  from  the  river,  piling 
them  where  they  could  be  used  for  beat- 
ing out  the  flames. 

There  was  not  much  time  for  prepara- 
tion. The  wind  had  caught  the  fire  at 
once,  sweeping  it  forward  with  a  rush. 
The  glow  had  turned  the  darkness  into  a 
ruddy  twilight,  through  which  the  hills 
and  plain  showed  spectrally,  the  bodies  of 
the  labouring  men  coming  out  in  sudden 
relief  against  the  white  background  of  the 
waggons.  From  beyond  the  fire  rifles  be- 
gan to  crack,  and  the  balls  sung  close,  all 
around;  yet  the  men  kept  to  their  work 


The  Battle  159 

heroically  to  the  last,  tearing,  tearing  at 
the  tindery  herbage,  until  the  flames 
burst  roaring  upon  them,  and  they  were 
driven  back  against  the  waggons,  blinded 
and  choking.  But  after  a  moment 
they  caught  up  the  drenched  sheets  of 
canvas  and  were  at  work  again,  whipping 
madly  at  the  fire  in  a  hand-to-hand 
struggle. 

It  was  soon  over.  The  feathery 
grasses  burned  out  almost  in  a  flash,  and 
there  was  left  only  a  broad  bed  of  em- 
bers, glowing  with  a  sullen  red.  The 
waggons  had  escaped  harm,  save  one, 
where  a  tongue  of  flame  was  licking 
along  the  edge  of  the  canvas.  One  of  the 
men  sprang  upon  a  wheel  and  ripped  the 
burning  strip  away  with  his  knife;  then, 
with  a  choking  cry,  he  threw  his  arms 
above  his  head  and  fell  backward  head- 
long to  the  sand,  lying  in  a  huddled,  con- 
vulsed heap,  Avith  an  iron-pointed  arrow 
through  his  throat,  the  blood  flowing 
from  between  his  lips  in  a  crimson 
flood. 


i6oThe  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

"  Look  out!  "  Frick  screamed.  "  Here 
they  come!     Get  back!  " 

They  leaped  to  their  places  within  the 
barricade,  seizing  their  rifles.  Across 
the  burned  space  from  the  hills,  like  an 
aftermath  of  the  fire,  swept  a  horde  of  the 
Sioux,  a  full  hundred,  flying  like  dusky 
phantoms,  yelling  like  a  chorus  of  demons. 

"  Wait,  wait!  "  Frick  shouted,  his  voice 
shrill  with  frenzy.  "  Aim  and  shoot  low. 
Waitl    ISlow— Fire! " 

Then  came  the  shock  and  terror  of 
chaos.  The  effect  of  the  close-range 
volley  was  murderous,  as  the  men  knew 
by  the  screams  of  mortal  agony.  But 
the  Sioux  were  too  near  and  the  charge 
too  impetuous  to  be  checked.  With  in- 
human rage  the  line  flung  itself  against 
the  barricade,  ponies  and  men  in  inextri- 
cable confusion,  with  a  hellish  din  of  out- 
cry and  the  flash  and  rattle  of  rifle  shots. 
The  cooler-headed  ones  amongst  the  de- 
fenders lay  in  their  place  of  retreat  be- 
neath tjhe  waggons^  crouched  to  the 
ground,  loading  and  firing  as  they  could, 


The  Battle  i6i 

careful  that  every  shot  should  count  to 
the  utmost;  but  the  fury  of  the  onset 
drove  others  out  of  their  shelter,  back 
toward  the  centre  of  the  camp,  where 
they  stood  together  fighting  every  man 
for  himself.  No  order  was  possible;  no 
single  voice  could  be  heard. 

The  barricade  had  withstood  the  shock 
perfectly,  save  in  one  place,  where  an 
emigrant's  waggon  was  overturned,  mak- 
ing a  gap  in  the  line.  Through  this  gap 
a  half-dozen  of  the  savages  plunged  with 
reckless  daring,  falling  upon  the  group 
within;  and  there  the  fighting  was  almost 
breast  to  breast.  Lying  where  he  was, 
with  a  conscious  deliberation  that  even 
then  surprised  him,  INIark  levelled  his 
rifle  against  one  of  the  ponies  and  fired. 
The  beast  reared  and  fell  heavily,  crush- 
ing his  rider  beneath  him.  Again  he 
fired,  and  another  of  the  riders  dropped 
his  uplifted  arms  and  dropped  slowly 
forward  upon  his  pony's  neck,  clinging 
there  limply  for  a  moment  before  he  fell 
to  the  ground  and  lay  inert.     Those  who 


1 62  The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

remained  of  the  mad  band  turned  and  es- 
caped as  they  had  come. 

The  attack  swerved  off  then,  passing 
swiftly  to  the  eastward;  but  there  the 
horde  wheeled  and  was  back  again,  gal- 
loping furiously  along  the  waggon-line, 
the  Sioux  lying  upon  their  beasts'  sides, 
firing  beneath  the  ponies'  throats.  Three 
times  they  passed  thus.  But  the  men  of 
the  camp  had  gathered  again  to  their 
places,  and  at  each  charge  their  rifles  told. 

The  body  of  the  freighter  who  had  first 
fallen  still  lay  outside  the  line  of  the  wag- 
gons. At  the  last  onset,  one  of  the  Sioux, 
with  insane  daring,  rode  close,  flung  him- 
self from  his  pony,  and  stooped  over  the 
dead  man,  drawing  his  knife.  INIark  saw 
and  scrambled  to  his  feet;  but  Cannon 
was  before  him.  Wholty  heedless  of  dan- 
ger he  had  leaped  from  his  concealment 
into  the  open,  flinging  himself  upon  the 
Indian  with  a  deep-throated  bellow,  cast- 
ing his  huge  arms  about  the  naked  body 
and  crushing  it  against  his  own.  One 
mighty  forearm  was  set  across  the  dusky 


The  Battle  163 

throat,  and  the  painted  face  bent  back- 
ward, grimacing,  the  eyes  starting — back 
and  back  until  the  neck  snapped  with  a 
hideous  sound.  The  giant  threw  the  life- 
less body  from  him  and  stood  erect  with 
the  roar  of  an  enraged  beast. 

Another  volley  from  the  rifles  beneath 
the  waggons,  and  the  Sioux  fled,  yelling, 
firing  at  hap-hazard,  becoming  mere 
vague  shapes  in  the  hanging  smoke-haze, 
and  disaj)pearing.  Then  fell  silence, 
save  for  the  stir  of  the  wind,  that  fanned 
the  lingering  embers  of  the  burned  grass 
to  a  dull  glow. 

For  a  long  time  Mark  lay,  his  face 
buried  upon  his  arms,  his  heart  pounding, 
his  brain  reeling.  Voices  began  speak- 
ing about  the  camp,  but  he  heard  no  word 
distinctlJ^  By  and  by  he  arose  and  stag- 
gered to  the  women's  shelter. 

"  Dorothy!  "  he  called.     "  Dorothy!  " 

She  came  to  him  at  once.  He  took  her 
cold  hand  in  his,  holding  it  against  his 
breast,  bending  above  her  across  the  low 
barrier. 


1 64  The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

"  Thank  God!  "  he  breathed.  She  did 
not  speak,  but  put  her  arms  about  his 
neck,  dinging  to  him  in  a  passion  of  sobs. 
Presently  he  released  himself  gently. 

"  I  'm  going  to  see  what 's  become  of 
Jack,"  he  said.  "  I  can't  stand  this  any 
any  longer.  Dorothy — "  He  took  her 
bowed  head  between  his  hands,  turning 
her  face  to  his  with  a  tender  strength, 
then  stooped  and  kissed  her  upon  the  lips. 
*'  Good-bye !  "  he  whispered,  and  left  her. 

He  crept  stealthily  to  the  river  bank, 
avoiding  being  seen,  and  followed  the 
water's  edge  down-stream  for  a  little  dis- 
tance, until  he  had  passed  beyond  the 
camp.  Then  he  threw  off  his  boots  and 
entered  the  water,  wading  out  until  he 
had  found  his  depth,  and  there  suffering 
himself  to  drift  with  the  rapid  current, 
listening  keenly,  keeping  a  sharp  watch 
upon  the  bank. 

Three  hundred  yards  below  he  saw  a 
figure  moving  through  the  willow  thickets 
toward  the  camp.  Swimming  closer,  he 
made  sure  that  it  was  Forrester;  but  he 


The  Battle  165 

was  cautious.  He  withdrew  again  to- 
ward the  middle  of  the  stream,  until  his 
feet  touched  bottom  near  a  small  island 
that  was  covered  with  scrub  growths. 
Then  he  called  across  the  water  quietly: 

"Jack!     Jack!" 

He  saw  the  figure  pause  and  stand  in 
an  attitude  of  listening. 

"Jack!"  he  called  again,  with  greater 
confidence.     "Out  here!     This  is  Mark." 

The  answer  was  a  shot.  He  felt  that 
he  was  struck — somewhere — he  could  not 
be  sure  where.  There  was  no  agony  of 
pain,  but  only  a  dull  consciousness,  as  of 
one  half  awake,  that  some  dreadful  thing 
had  come  upon  him.  He  sank  once  be- 
neath the  water;  then  with  a  despairing 
strength  he  waded  toward  the  island — 
falling — crawling  on  hands  and  knees 
through  the  shallows,  dragging  himself 
out  upon  the  sand  and  lying  there  at  his 
length,  closing  his  eyes  wearily. 

Once  he  awoke,  chilled  through  and 
through,  yet  wanting  the  will  to  stir,  and 
sinking  back  into  unconsciousness.     And 


1 66  The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

again,  half  aroused,  he  wondered  if  he 
dreamed  or  if  he  heard  in  reality  the  rat- 
tle of  rifles  and  the  lusty  noise  of  battle; 
but  ere  he  could  be  sure,  again  oblivion 
fell  upon  him. 


VI 

"  YOU  SHALL  LO^'^E  ME  " 

O  LOWLY,  very  slowly,  Mark  came 
^  half  awake.  Thought  or  feeling 
he  had  none;  he  was  no  more  than  a 
broken  bit  of  drift  upon  the  bosom  of  the 
dark  waters  of  mystery  flowing  at  the 
outmost  edge  of  life.  Will  was  gone 
from  him;  he  neither  knew  nor  cared 
where  he  was  or  what  had  happened;  he 
only  waited  in  a  spiritless  lethargy  while 
he  was  borne  little  by  little  toward  a 
living  consciousness.  Feebly  his  eyes 
opened,  and  for  a  long  time  he  lay  star- 
ing blankly  upward  at  the  sky,  pale  with 
the  first  light  of  dawn.  While  he  looked, 
uncomprehending,  the  faint  grej'-  was 
streaked  with  opalescence,  then  flushed 
with  crimson  and  gold.  Birds  chirped 
near  by ;  and  still  nearer  was  the  soft  lap- 
167 


1 68  The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

ping  of  water.  Many  minutes  passed, 
and  the  hght  strengthened,  yet  that 
deadly  lassitude  held  him,  body  and  mind. 
Once  he  stirred  slightly,  but  his  every 
muscle  protested  in  agony;  and  after  that 
he  lay  quite  still. 

A  new  sound  came  to  him,  seem- 
ing strangely  familiar,  yet  unreal — the 
sound  of  voices  calling.  Then  he  saw 
vague  forms  bending  above  him — faces 
strangely  familiar  too;  yet,  though  he 
made  an  effort,  his  thoughts  would  not 
take  hold  of  them,  and  they  were  gone 
again.  After  a  long  time — time  for 
which  he  had  no  measure — they  reap- 
peared, and  he  felt  himself  lifted  and  car- 
ried, and  dimly  he  made  out  that  he  lay 
upon  a  rude  raft  of  poles  and  was  float- 
ing across  a  width  of  water,  with  those 
haunting  faces  moving  along  on  either 
side.  Again  he  was  lifted  and  borne, 
and  when  the  supporting  hands  were 
withdrawn  he  sank  gently,  quietly  down, 
down,  and  darkness  closed  over  him. 

Slowly,  very  slowly,  he  rose  from  the 


''You  Shall  Love  Me"        169 

depths;  and  there  again  were  the  hover- 
ing faces.  One  he  made  out,  stooping 
close  above  him,  its  eyes  looking  into  liis 
— eyes  sliining  with  tears  and  lips  quiv- 
ering with  the  sound  of  a  joyful  laugh. 
Surely  he  knew  that  face!  Moment  by 
moment  his  mind  cleared,  and  he  strove 
to  make  his  eyes  ask  the  question  his  lips 
could  not  form.  The  laugliing  voice 
spoke  in  answer: 

"Mark!  Thank  God!  Don't  you 
know  me,  JNIark — Jack?  Never  mind; 
it 's  all  right.     Oh,  thank  God!  " 

All  right!  His  groping  mind  seized 
upon  the  words  and  held  to  them.  All 
right!  His  glance  wandered,  and  there 
was  another  face,  framed  in  a  lustrous 
mass  of  fair  hair.  He  struggled  to  com- 
prehend, and  tried  to  smile  a  greeting. 
The  face  came  closer,  closer,  and  he  felt 
the  touch  of  a  light,  cool  hand  upon 
his  cheeck  and  forehead.  It  was  very 
comforting. 

He  slept  and  waked,  slept  and  waked 
again  and  again,  as  upon  the  soft,  even 


I/O  The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

ebb  and  flow  of  a  mighty  tide;  and  with 
every  awakening  his  sense  of  reahty  grew 
stronger.  By  and  by  he  discovered  that 
he  was  lying  upon  a  bed  beneath  a  can- 
vas waggon  cover;  and  after  another  in- 
terval his  ears  began  to  catch  sounds  that 
were  known — the  whinny  of  a  horse,  the 
stroke  of  an  axe,  the  stir  of  wind  in  the 
leaves  of  trees.  He  would  have  liked  to 
ask  questions,  but  when  he  tried,  quieting 
fingers  were  laid  upon  his  lips  and  a 
quiet  voice  forbade  him — a  voice  which 
he  felt  must  be  obeyed.  So  he  lay  still, 
contenting  himself  with  trying  to  piece 
together  the  broken  odds  and  ends 
of  recollection.  But  nothing  was  plain 
to  him  until  at  last  Mrs.  Cannon  and 
Forrester  came  to  him  with  water  and 
bandages,  bared  his  breast,  and  set  about 
dressing  his  wound.  Then  in  a  flash  he 
remembered. 

"Good!"  Forrester  cried  happily, 
when  the  dressing  was  done.  He  took 
Mark's  hand  in  his  and  held  it  fast,  ^v^th 
a  fond  pressure,  his  fine  face  quick  with 


"You  Shall  Love  Me"         171 

feeling.  "  It 's  all  right,  JNIark,"  he  said 
softly.  "  We  've  got  you  back,  and 
we  're  going  to  keep  you ;  but,  God !  I 
was  n't  worth  it.  Even  if  I  'd  needed 
you,  I  was  n't  worth  it."  He  laughed 
with  a  brave  assumption  of  gaiety;  but 
the  laugh  carried  a  note  of  bitterness. 
"And  I  w^as  safe  enough  all  the  time — 
hiding  out  yonder.  I  got  back  when  the 
fighting  was  all  done.     My  luck!" 

"  How  long  is  it? "  Mark  asked 
faintly. 

"  This  is  the  eighth  day,"  Forrester 
said.  "  Eight  days  we  've  been  in  camp 
here,  and  they  've  let  us  alone.  There  's 
another  train  camped  ^dth  us  now,  wait- 
ing till  we  go  on.  The  Sioux  won't  come 
again." 

Questions  crowded  to  IMark's  hps,  but 
Forrester  cut  them  off.  "  Be  quiet,  now. 
If  you  talk,  they  '11  make  me  go  away. 
It 's  all  right — everj^thing  's  all  right." 

After  another  day  or  two,  as  his  weak- 
ness grew  less  and  something  of  his  old 
self  was  aroused  in  him,  other  faces  looked 


1 72  The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

in  upon  him  where  he  lay:  Frick,  Can- 
non, the  healthy  sun-browned  freighters 
and  the  friendly  emigrants,  welcoming 
him  back  to  life.  Then,  after  a  long, 
strengthening  night's  sleep,  Forrester 
came  again  and  sat  by  his  side. 

"  Now,  tell  me,"  Mark  said.  "  What 
about  our  boys? " 

Forrester's  face  was  sobered.  "  We 
buried  five,  Mark,"  he  answered  simply. 
"  Do  you  remember  that  fellow  that 
played  the  fiddle  for  us  to  dance  by,  back 
there  at  the  Elkhorn  ?  They  got  him,  and 
three  of  our  own  men;  and  they  killed 
one  of  the  little  children.  My  soul!  "  he 
cried,  his  voice  harsh  with  feeling.  "  We 
wanted  a  fight,  for  the  fun  of  it ;  and  now 
we  've  had  it.  God  forgive  us !  That 
fiddler  had  a  wife  and  children,  too, 
and  nothing  besides.  They  '11  have  to 
shift  for  themselves,  somehow.  Oh,  it 's 
tough!  "  But  he  put  these  graver  things 
aside  with  a  forced  laugh.  "  It  can't  be 
helped  now.  What  we  've  got  to  do  is 
to  get  you  well  again,  so  we  can  go  ahead. 


''You  Shall  Love  Me"         173 

You  're  delaying  the  game.     You  think 
about  that  and  rest." 

One  face  he  had  missed,  in  these  later 
days,  save  only  now  and  then  in  a  fleet- 
ing glimpse.  While  his  weakness  had 
held  him,  forbidding  speech,  forbidding 
ever}i:hing  but  passive  quiet,  Dorothy 
had  been  his  faithful  minister,  hovering 
about  him  with  a  w^atchful  constancy, 
seeming  loath  to  give  the  least  part  of 
her  ministry  into  other  hands.  It  was 
she  who  had  fed  him,  upon  the  first  return 
of  appetite,  ^^ath  dainty  foods  mysteri- 
ously wrought  from  the  coarse  fare  of 
the  camp;  and  the  sight  of  her  had  fed 
his  hungry  eyes.  When  in  his  utter  weak- 
ness even  the  desire  of  life  had  ebbed  to 
the  very  dregs,  it  was  her  presence,  so 
instinct  with  life — the  living  warmth  of 
her  hand,  the  living  light  in  her  eyes, — 
that  had  subtly  drawn  him,  as  by  gossa- 
mer threads  too  fine  to  be  discovered, 
back  to  the  warmth  and  light  of  life 
itself.  With  heart  and  soul  he  clung 
to  her. 


174  The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

But  as  strength  grew  upon  him,  and  he 
came  out  of  the  shadows,  her  care  was 
surrendered  and  she  came  to  him  less  and 
less,  and  then  only  upon  the  briefest  er- 
rands. He  knew  that  she  avoided  him, 
for  fear  of  what  she  saw  trembling  upon 
his  lips.     He  could  not  bear  to  have  it  so. 

One  quiet  evening  she  brought  his  sup- 
per from  the  camp-fire,  placing  it  before 
him,  and  standing  for  a  moment,  her  fair 
head  and  slender  shoulders  framed  in 
the  opening  of  the  canvas. 

"  Is  there  anything  else  j^ou  would 
like  ? "  she  asked  gently. 

"  Yes,"  he  said  with  simple  earnest- 
ness. "  I  want  you  to  stay  where  you 
are,  just  a  minute.  Don't  run  away." 
He  did  not  glance  at  his  supper;  his  eyes 
were  fixed  upon  hers,  gravely,  holding 
them  until  her  lids  drooped  and  a  faint 
blush  overspread  her  cheeks.  He  could 
control  his  voice,  but  he  could  not  keep 
revelation  out  of  his  glance. 

"  Wait!  "  he  said  again.  "  I  've  got  to 
talk  to  you  a  little.      But  you  need  n't 


''You  Shall  Love  Me"        175 
be  afraid.     I  only  want  to  say  '  Thank 

you." 

She  smiled  upon  him  timidly,  with  a 
look  that  he  took  as  gratitude  for  his  for- 
bearance, and  tried  to  speak  gaily. 

"  '  Thank  you! '  "  she  echoed.  "  What 
funny  little  words!  I  don't  believe  I 
know  what  they  mean." 

"  They  don't  mean  half  what  I  want 
them  to,"  he  returned.  "  Not  a  hun- 
dredth part.  There  are  n't  any  words  for 
that,  I  reckon.  You  '11  have  to  try  to 
understand  the  best  you  can.  I  know 
what  would  have  become  of  me,  if  it 
had  n't  been  for  you — you  and  Mrs. 
Cannon.  And  I  wanted  to  live,  too.  I 
don't  know  what  I  'm  going  to  do  with 
my  life :  but  whatever  it  is,  I  'm  not  going 
to  forget  that  I  owe  it  to  you.  And  I  'd 
rather  owe  it  to  you  than  to  anybody  else 
in  the  world." 

Again  her  colour  mounted,  and  she 
turned  away  in  real  distress.  "  Hush !  " 
she  cried  softly.  "  Oh,  you  must  n't  say 
that." 


1 76  The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

"  I  Ve  said  it  abeady,"  he  retorted, 
"  Once  is  all  I  need  to  say  it.  That 
part's  done  now,  and  neither  one  of  us  is 
going  to  forget.  But  there  's  something 
else."  He  hesitated,  dwelling  upon  her 
loveliness,  struggling  to  put  down  the 
rising  rebellion  of  his  longing.  "  You 
must  listen  to  me  a  little  while.  I  '11  try 
to  say  nothing  to  hurt  you.  I  've  told 
you  I  love  you,  Dorothy.  I  told  you 
because  I  thought  I  had  a  right.  I 
thought  my  love  was  enough  to  give  me 
the  right.  But  it  made  you  afraid  of 
me,  and  you  have  n't  quit  being  afraid. 
I  did  n't  know  why,  at  first,  but  I  think 
I  'm  beginning  to  understand.  I  don't 
want  it  to  be  that  way,  Dorothy.  It 
was  n't  meant  to  be  that  way,  and  we 
must  n't  let  it."  With  a  curious  shyness 
he  put  out  his  hand  to  where  hers  lay, 
resting  upon  the  edge  of  the  waggon-box, 
and  let  his  strong  fingers  pass  lightly, 
caressingly,  over  the  velvet-soft  flesh. 
"  I  need  you,"  he  breathed.  "  We  need 
each    other.      We'll    always    need    each 


''You  Shall  Love  Me"        i77 

other,  whatever  happens.  I  wash  you 
wouldn't  fight  against  it,  nor  be  afraid 
of  it.  We  must  keep  friends.  Oh!"  he 
cried,  with  sharp  impatience.  "  I  'm 
not  saj'ing  it  right.  I  don't  want  you  to 
think  I  've  quit  caring,  or  care  in  any 
different  way.  I  'm  not  one  that  changes. 
But — I  'm  not  going  to  worry  you  with 
it  any  more.  There !  "  His  hand  gripped 
hers  firmly,  and  a  firmer  note  came 
into  his  voice.  "  I  'm  not  going  to  worry 
you  with  it  any  more,"  he  repeated. 
"But  we  must  keep  one  another,  as 
we  used  to  be — good  friends,  always. 
Please,  Dorothy! " 

She  gave  a  quick,  soft  laugh,  full  of  a 
confusion  of  emotion — relief,  happiness, 
tenderness.  "  You  are  good  to  me!  "  she 
cried,  and  caught  his  hand  between  her 
own,  pressing  it  for  a  swift  instant 
against  her  breast.  "  You  sha'n't  think 
that  of  me  any  more,"  she  whispered. 
She  left  him  then ;  but  in  the  cool,  mellow 
dusk,  an  hour  later,  she  came  again, 
standing  in  her  old  place  at  the  back  of 


178  The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

the  waggon,  her  chin  resting  upon  her 
crossed  arms,  smihng  down  upon  him 
where  he  lay.  It  was  he  that  spoke  first, 
trying  to  fix  the  tone  which  he  resolutely 
meant  their  new  relation  should  carry. 

"  Oh,  I  'm  a  lot  stronger,  this  last  day 
or  two.  I  wish  they  'd  get  ready  and  go 
ahead  now ;  there  's  no  use  waiting  any 
longer."  The  jocund  sounds  of  the  even- 
ing occupations  about  the  camp  were 
borne  to  his  ears,  and  he  stirred  impa- 
tiently. "  I  want  to  look  out,"  he  said. 
"  Please  help  me  to  raise  up,  for  just  a 
minute.'* 

She  tried  to  dissuade  him;  but  he 
would  have  it  so,  and  she  aided  him  to 
lift  his  shoulders,  propping  him  with 
blankets,  then  kneeling  at  his  side  while 
he  lay  gazing  upon  the  bustling  life  about 
the  fires  near  by.  "That's  good!"  he 
sighed  contentedly.  "  Lord,  but  I  '11  be 
glad  when  I  'm  out  there  with  them 
again."  But  after  a  few  moments  his 
glance  strayed  to  the  wide,  dusky  stretch 
of  plain  beyond,  that  was  invested  with 


''You  Shall  Love  Me"        179 

the  gathering  mystery  of  night  and  to  the 
fading  glow  of  purple  twilight  that  clung 
to  the  low  horizon.  It  seemed  so  short 
a  time  since  his  every  look  toward  that 
line  of  the  West  had  filled  him  with  eager- 
ness, inviting  him,  enticing  him;  for  out 
there,  somewhere,  somehow,  he  had  meant 
that  love  should  come  to  fulfilment — 
love,  and  the  other  strong  purposes  of  his 
youth.  But  now,  as  he  gazed,  he  felt  de- 
sire wavering,  fading  like  the  day-glow. 
What  was  to  come  he  felt  to  be  wholly 
out  of  his  keeping.  Silence  had  fallen 
between  them.  His  hand  sought  hers 
in  the  darkness,  as  though  for  a  hold  upon 
the  realities  that  were  eluding  him.  But 
the  girl  withdrew  her  fingers  gently. 

"  You  must  n't  overtax  yourself,"  she 
said.     "  You  must  lie  down  again  now." 

Leave  of  the  fateful  camp  was  not 
long  delayed.  Once  the  healing  of  his 
w^ound  had  well  begun,  the  rebound  of 
his  superb  young  body  was  quick  and 
sure.  With  every  hour,  while  he  lay 
breathing  the  rare,  clear  air  of  the  Plains, 


i8o  The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

he  felt  strength  flowing  back  to  him.  He 
was  glad  when  the  train  got  in  motion 
again. 

He  wondered  that  he  was  not  impa- 
tient to  be  upon  his  feet  and  in  his  place 
beside  his  oxen;  but  he  found  himself 
quite  content  to  lie  where  he  was,  rocked 
by  the  slow,  swajdng  movement  of  the 
waggon,  dropping  asleep  when  he  would 
and  waking  again  to  lie  through  the  long, 
warm,  tranquil  hours,  soothed  by  their 
every  influence,  wholly  care-free.  Mrs. 
Cannon  and  Dorothy  rode  as  before 
upon  the  forward  seat,  talking  sometimes, 
sometimes  falling  silent,  always  instantly 
ready  to  wait  upon  his  least  need  or 
desire.  Now  and  then  Dorothy  would 
come  of  her  own  accord  to  sit  by  his  side 
for  a  golden  hour.  A  half-dozen  books 
were  amongst  her  possessions,  and  from 
one  or  another  of  these  she  read  aloud  to 
him.  He  was  not  upon  intimate  terms 
with  books;  life,  with  its  living  interests, 
had  always  held  the  greater  charm  for 
him.     What  she  read  did  not  often  abide 


''You  Shall  Love  Me"        18 1 

with  him;  but  always,  when  the  reading 
was  done,  there  lingered  in  his  memory 
the  soft,  full  music  of  her  voice,  intoning 
itself  over  and  over  again.  What  he  had 
offered  she  seemed  to  have  accepted 
frankty;  their  relation  bore  no  colour  of 
embarrassment  or  constraint.  By  com- 
mon consent,  the  future  was  in  abeyance. 

Day  by  day  health  and  vigour  rose  in 
him  in  a  warm,  rich  flood,  as  his  buoyant 
will  took  a  new  grip  upon  life.  To  sit 
propped  up  in  his  bed  and  watch  his 
strong  and  healthful  mates  at  their  work 
was  tonic,  and  his  bodily  indolence  be- 
came a  hardship.  It  was  like  a  new  birth 
when,  a  week  after  the  train  resumed  its 
march,  he  was  able  one  evening  to  take 
his  first  weak,  halting  steps  about  the 
camp,  supported  by  Forrester's  friendly 
arm.  But  his  robust  spirit  was  revolted 
when  he  found  how  feeble  his  big  legs 
and  body  had  become. 

"  I  could  n't  crack  my  bull- whip  to 
save  my  soul,"  he  complained.  "  Look 
how  my  hand  shakes!     And  my  legs  feel 


1 82    The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

like  a  new-dropped  colt's.  Let 's  find 
some  place  to  sit  do\\Ti.  I  feel  too  far 
off  the  ground." 

They  rested  upon  the  warm  sand  on 
the  river  bank,  at  the  side  of  the  camp, 
where  they  could  watch  its  bold  move- 
ment in  preparation  for  night.  What 
they  talked  of  in  the  first  minutes 
amounted  to  nothing — it  was  only  a 
light,  aimless  drift  of  speech  in  one  of 
life's  back-waters,  where  the  current  was 
turned  aside.  Forrester's  confirmed, 
w^himsical  indifference  seemed  to  possess 
him;  and  for  Mark  it  sufficed  to  rest  lan- 
guidly at  ease,  with  the  throb  of  his  re- 
turning vitality  pulsing  through  his  body. 

*'A  man  needs  to  be  knocked  out  once 
in  a  while,  to  know  how  to  set  the  right 
store  by  his  strength,"  he  said  once. 
"  I  'd  never  lost  even  a  day  before." 

The  careless  suggestion  had  more 
effect  than  he  meant.  A  silence  fell 
upon  Forrester,  persisting  against  Mark's 
further  offerings  of  speech.  Mark's  glance 
turned    to    the    boy's     face     presently; 


"You  Shall  Love  Me"        183 

it  was  overcast  by  a  moody  sadness,  his 
shoulders  drooped  wearily,  and  the  lines 
about  his  lips  were  drawn  tense.  A  lit- 
tle qualm  of  misgiving  stirred  in  Mark's 
mind.  Forrester  met  his  look  with  a 
deep-drawn  sigh. 

"A  man  needs  to  be  knocked  out  once 
in  a  while,  to  know  how  to  measure  his 
own  weakness,"  he  said  dully.  He  sat 
for  a  moment  with  bent  head,  dipping  up 
handfuls  of  the  dry  sand,  letting  it  slip 
idly  through  his  relaxed  fingers,  staring 
gloomily  at  the  inconstant  heaps  of  sliding 
grains.  By  and  by  he  abandoned  this 
little  effort,  facing  Mark  courageously. 

*'  I  told  you  what  I  meant  to  do,  that 
day.     But  it  was  no  use." 

"Jack!"  The  word  was  a  cry,  vi- 
brant with  startled  feeling;  his  heart 
bounded.  Quick  upon  the  sharp  shock 
of  surprise,  exultation  seized  him,  and  he 
had  to  shut  his  lips  hard  to  stifle  a  laugh 
of  sheer  joy.  But  that  feeling  did  not 
hold.  For  a  time  they  sat  looking  into 
one  another's  eyes,  while  neither  spoke. 


1 84  The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

"  I  don't — understand,"  Mark  said 
faintly,  by  and  by.  "  No  use  !  Did  she 
tell  you  that?" 

Forrester's  lips  parted  with  a  harsh, 
inarticulate  sound,  that  was  like  a  laugh 
dying  in  birth.  "  I  did  n't  go  so  far  as 
that.  I  saved  that  pain  for  both  of  us. 
I  went  far  enough  to  be  perfectly  sure 
that  I  need  n't  say  what  I  wanted." 

Mark  waited  a  moment  for  full  com- 
prehension. He  seized  Forrester's  arm 
and  shook  it  roughly. 

"Jack!"  he  cried.  "You  quitter! 
You  scared  boy!  Is  that  the  sort  of 
stuff  you're  made  of?" 

Forrester  was  very  white  and  very 
grave.  "Quitter!"  he  echoed  bitterly. 
"  Yes,  I  guess  you  Ve  got  a  right  to  call 
me  that.  I  've  been  a  quitter,  all  my  life. 
It 's  in  my  blood.  There  's  nothing  I  've 
ever  really  wanted  that  I  had  the  courage 
to  claim."  He  began  again  his  aimless 
play  with  the  sand-grains,  the  muscles  of 
his  fine  face  working  com^lsively.  "  I 
wish  I  could  see  life  as  you  do,"  he  said 


*'You  Shall  Love  Me"        185 

presently.  "  I  wish  to  God  I  could 
believe  that  the  good  things  belong 
to  me,  sometimes.  But  I  can't.  What 
have  I  done — what  have  I  been?  It's 
grotesque! " 

It  was  Mark's  primal  faith  that  an- 
swered: "You  coward  !  You  poor  fool! 
I  thought  you  loved  her." 

Forrester's  breath  was  sharply  in- 
drawn. "  Love  her?  "  he  sighed.  "  Why, 
Mark,  it  was  because  I  loved  her  that 
I  had  the  strength  to  hold  my  tongue 
— the  best  strength  I  ever  had.  It 
showed  me  to  myself  for  just  what  I  am 
— only  the  poor  half  of  a  man.  Oh ! " 
he  flung  out  his  arms  with  a  gesture  of 
helplessness.  "  You  can't  understand !  " 
he  cried. 

Mark  set  his  teeth  and  gripped  his 
hands  hard  in  a  grim  effort  at  restraint, 
"And  you  're  going  to  let  it  go  with 
that?  "  he  demanded  bluntly.  "  Jack,  if 
you  do,  you  're  less  a  man  than  I 
thought  you." 

"Ah!"  Forrester  returned,  almost 
listlessly.     "  Mark,    see    here :    Do    you 


1 86  The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

never  question  yourself  about  your  de- 
serts? You  take  what  you  can  get,  don't 
you?  You  think  everything  belongs  to 
you  that  you  can  wrest  out  of  life  by 
pure  strength? " 

"Yes,"  Mark  retorted  rudely.  "A 
man  deserves  what  his  strength  can  win 
for  him.  That 's  all  I  know  about  de- 
serts :  that 's  all  there  is  to  know.  What 
is  it  j^ou 're  afraid  of?  What  have  you 
seen  that  frightens  you  so?" 

Forrester  straightened  his  drooping 
posture  slowly,  as  though  the  effort  gave 
him  physical  pain;  his  eyes  met  Mark's 
fearlessly. 

"  I  've  seen  what  you  've  missed  see- 
ing," he  said  with  quiet  courage.  "  You 
are  the  man." 

"Jack!  What  are  you  saying !  "  The 
calm  words  were  like  a  knife-thrust,  as 
full  of  surprise.  Before  the  man's  eyes 
the  dim-lit  earth  and  sky  appeared  as 
through  a  sudden  haze.  Forrester's  quiet 
voice  came  as  from  a  far  distance. 

"  You  are  the  man.     I  know  it.      If 


"You  Shall  Love  Me"        187 

I  Ve  ever  been  sure  of  a  thing  in  my  life, 
it 's  that.  Oh,  I  'm  all  you  've  called  me 
— fool,  and  all  the  rest  of  it.  But  there 
are  two  of  us,  and  you  're  the  lucky  one." 

"  You  don't  know  what  you  're  say- 
ing! "  INIark  said,  with  a  stifled  groan. 
"  It  can't  be  true.  Jack,  I  know  it  is  n't 
true." 

"  It 's  the  truest  thing  in  your  life." 
Forrester's  voice  had  the  firmness  of  cer- 
tainty. "  If  I  've  ever  been  sure  of  any- 
thing in  the  world,  it 's  that.     She  loves 

you." 

Again  Mark  walked  beside  his  team; 
for  only  a  little  time  each  day,  at  first, 
while  weakness  held  him,  and  then  for 
longer  hours,  with  renewed  vigour.  The 
return  to  labour  was  a  godsend.  Again 
and  again  in  his  life  he  had  found  bodily 
activity  a  sure  resource;  and  now  it  did 
not  fail  him. 

He  was  in  a  maze,  wandering,  groping, 
feeling  it  enclose  him.  Not  of  his  will 
had  it  come  upon  him;  yet  with  the  in- 


1 88  The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

stinct  of  his  kind  he  felt  that  by  sheer 
force  of  will  he  must  fight  his  way  out 
to  a  clear  understanding.  He  was  a 
stranger  to  every  mood  but  that  of  the 
fighter. 

Was  it  true,  this  that  Forrester  had 
said?  Hope  and  fear,  desire  and  doubt, 
struggled  together  mightily  within  him. 
And  while  the  struggle  went  on,  he  kept 
to  himself,  with  the  instinct  of  the  half- 
savage,  avoiding  his  mates,  avoiding  the 
girl,  morose,  implacable.  What  had 
come  to  pass  in  him  in  these  days  sur- 
prised him  as  he  began  to  realise  it,  in 
the  hours  alone  with  himself.  He  was 
no  longer  a  boy,  with  the  boy's  ecstatic, 
fervid  view  of  love  and  life.  He  knew 
himself  now  for  a  man,  with  the  man's 
sterner  outlook.  It  was  not  love  alone 
that  possessed  him,  but  the  riot  of  a  man's 
passions.  One  thought  only  gripped 
him,  and  would  not  be  beaten  down — 
weaving  itself  in  with  the  sturdy  fibre  of 
his  will,  becoming  a  part  of  him:  Love 
should  have  its  way. 


''You  Shall  Love  Me"         189 

He  was  not  impatient.  He  did  not 
try  to  discover  why,  but  he  knew  that 
impatience  was  wholly  swallowed  up  in 
the  greater  emotion  that  mastered  him. 
"  She  loves  you,"  Forrester  had  said. 
Was  it  true?  "  I  love  her!  "  his  soul  an- 
swered. Hour  by  hour,  day  by  day,  as 
he  walked  upon  the  sand  of  the  trail  or 
as  he  lay  at  night  in  his  blankets,  staring 
at  the  stars,  the  words  repeated  them- 
selves, over  and  over,  until  they  became  as 
the  rh}i:hm  to  which  the  strong  stride  of 
his  feet  and  the  strong  beating  of  his 
heart  kept  time.  "  I  love  her !  She 
shall  love  me!" — over  and  over  again, 
over  and  over  again,  until  it  mounted  to 
absolute  conviction.  The  rest  could  wait. 
He  was  not  impatient.  There  was  time 
enough  to  go  to  her,  by  and  by.  He 
would  first  make  conquest  of  himself, 
compel  order  out  of  the  chaos  that  was  in 
him.  Stubbornly  he  shut  his  Kps,  letting 
no  word  pass  them. 

Desolation  had   come  upon  the  land, 
stealtliily  but  surely,  as  the  trail  had  led 


190  The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

ever  and  ever  to  higher  levels.  Valley 
and  plain  alike  were  bare  and  unlovely. 
The  wild  grasses  were  sparse  and  yellow; 
the  great  expanse  of  sagebrush  was  thick 
with  impalpable  dust;  scattered  in  ugly 
disorder  were  ragged,  matted  patches 
of  cactus  and  soapweed,  shrunken  and 
deadened  bj^  the  dry  heat.  Day  after 
day  this  unvarying  prospect  opened 
ahead,  far  as  the  weary  eye  could  see,  and 
night  after  night  it  closed  behind,  as  the 
shadows  settled  over  it,  in  sickening 
monotony.  Game  had  become  scarce, 
as  the  wild  herds  had  passed  to  the  lower 
lands  in  search  of  fresher  pasturage.  The 
very  river  had  shared  in  the  seasonal 
blight,  until  it  was  hardly  more  than  a 
broken  chain  of  pools,  shallow  and  tepid. 
The  daj^s  were  still  summery,  but  the 
night  winds  were  cold,  ominous  of  the 
winter  that  drew  near.  Ease  and  plenty 
lay  behind;  ahead,  in  the  hundreds  of 
wide,  vacant  miles,  lay — Heaven  knew 
what  of  hardship  and  privation,  with  ter- 
ror in  their  train. 


"You  Shall  Love  Me"         191 

Some  amongst  those  of  the  train  were 
growing  anxious,  apprehensive;  even 
Frick,  through  his  impassive  mask, 
showed  signs  of  the  wear  of  an  increasing 
responsibility.  The  rest  of  the  way  lay 
through  regions  peopled  only  by  hostile 
tribes.  There  had  been  but  the  one  act- 
ual encounter;  after  that  the  savages  had 
kept  their  distance — watchful,  but  in- 
spired by  a  wholesome  fear  of  the  train's 
increased  size  and  strength.  That  was 
the  least  of  the  menaces.  Many  of  the 
emigrant  parties  had  dropped  out  on  the 
lower  prairies,  to  begin  home-making;  of 
those  that  remained,  many  were  but 
poorly  quipped  for  bearing  the  brunt  of 
a  wilderness  winter,  with  food  becoming 
more  and  more  scarce,  and  with  grim 
Want  lurking  ahead.  It  was  enough  to 
daunt  the  stoutest. 

But  to  Mark,  in  his  intense  self-ab- 
sorption, all  this  w^ore  the  look  of  a  shad- 
o\^y  unreality;  nothing  was  real  but  what 
was  going  on,  strong,  inevitable,  within 
himself.     Mere  force  of  habit,  more  than 


192  The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

contriving,  carried  him  through  the  days' 
routine;  instinct,  not  conscious  need,  dic- 
tated his  eating  and  sleeping ;  in  the  coun- 
cils of  the  train  over  the  difficulties  to  be 
overcome  he  was  all  but  dumb — brooding 
heavily  through  the  sunlit  days,  and  in 
the  night  hours  rehearsing  in  his  dreams 
the  drama  of  his  passion. 

Not  by  his  planning,  but  quite  by 
chance,  came  his  next  meeting  mth  Doro- 
thy. It  was  in  the  early  evening,  after 
camp  was  made,  that  he  happened  upon 
her,  face  to  face,  as  she  walked  down  to 
one  of  the  river  pools  to  bring  water  for 
preparing  supper.  Even  then,  had  there 
been  a  way,  he  would  have  avoided  her; 
but  he  could  not.  If  she  had  seen  any- 
thing of  his  distraught  mood  in  these 
later  days,  if  she  had  seen  that  he  was 
deliberately  keeping  away  from  her,  and 
if  now  she  read  anything  to  give  her  un- 
easiness in  the  hard-set  hues  of  his  face 
or  in  the  smothered  glow  of  his  eyes,  she 
ignored  it,  smiling  up  at  him  with  frank 
unreserve. 


"You  Shall  Love  Me"         193 

"How  strong  and  well  you  look!  If 
I  did  n't  know,  I  could  n't  believe  what 
you  've  been  through.  How  do  you  do 
it?" 

He  did  not  answer.  He  took  the  pail 
from  her  hand  and  filled  it  at  the  pool; 
then  set  it  down  upon  the  sand  and  stood 
before  her,  square,  erect,  his  eyes  fixed 
upon  her  face.  There  was  that  in  the 
look  which  made  her  shrink  from  him 
timidly. 

"  I  must  hurry  back,"  she  said.  "  Mrs. 
Cannon  is  waiting  to  get  supper.  Will 
you  carry  the  water  for  me?  " 

Again  he  passed  her  question  by. 
"  Dorothy !  "  he  cried.  The  note  in  his 
deep  voice  was  not  to  be  misinterpreted. 

"Oh,  please!"  she  breathed,  and  put 
out  her  hand  with  a  gesture  of  pleading. 
But  he  caught  the  small  hand  in  his  and 
held  it  fast,  as  though  he  did  not  mean 
to  let  it  go.  Though  she  tried  to  escape, 
her  strength  was  as  nothing  against  his. 

"You  hurt  me!"  she  said.     "Don't! 
You  must  let  me  go." 
13 


194  The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

"I  will  not!"  he  declared.  "I've 
waited  for  you  too  long  already.  I  'm 
going  to  keep  you  now  until  you  've  an- 
swered me.  I  love  you!  Dorothy,  do 
you  love  me? " 

She  had  ceased  struggling,  standing 
helpless  before  him,  her  head  bent,  her 
cheeks  ashen-pale,  her  slight  body  trem- 
bling from  head  to  foot.  Bravely  she 
tried  to  control  herself,  but  the  trial  was 
a  pitiful  failure. 

"  You  are  cruel!  "  she  said. 

"  I  can't  help  it,"  he  returned.  "  Do 
you  love  me? " 

"  You  promised,  and  I  've  been  trust- 
ing you  not  to  speak  of  this  to  me 
again." 

"  I  've  broken  my  word,"  he  said,  "  be- 
cause I  couldn't  help  that  either.  Do 
you  love  me? " 

"  You  are  making  me  hate  you ! "  she 
sobbed. 

He  laughed  at  that;  a  triumphant 
laugh.  "I  believe  you  do  love  me!"  he 
cried.     He  drew  her  to  him,  unresisting, 


''You  Shall  Love  Me"        195 

his  arms  about  her.  "  Dorothy,  why 
can't  you  tell  me  so?  " 

"No,  no!"  With  all  her  slight 
strength  she  sought  to  free  herself;  but 
he  would  not  yield;  his  big  arms  held  her 
as  in  a  vise,  close  against  his  breast.  Even 
the  sight  of  her  tears  did  not  move  him  to 
the  least  relenting. 

"  Be  quiet,  Dorothy,  and  listen,"  he 
commanded.  "  I  'm  going  to  say  what 
I  want,  before  I  let  you  go.  There  's  no 
other  way.  I  've  done  my  best,  but 
there  's  no  other  way  now.  You  must  n't 
blame  me.  Would  you  blame  a  starving 
man  for  telling  you  he  was  hungry? 
I  'm  starving  for  you.  I  want  you.  I  've 
got  to  have  you.  By  God,  you  belong 
to  me!" 

She  was  sobbing  bitterly.  AYhen  she 
did  not  speak,  he  held  her  from  him  at 
arm's  length,  his  hands  gripping  her 
shoulders.  As  he  looked  upon  her  thus, 
slowly  the  fire  of  possession  died  low  in 
his  eyes,  and  a  softer  light  took  its  place. 

"Dear  girl!"  he  murmured.     "What 


196  The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

is  it?  I  love  you.  Can't  you  believe 
that?  I  know  you  do  believe  it.  What 
is  it  that  hurts  you  so? "  He  laid 
his  hands  upon  her  head  and  com- 
pelled her  to  face  him,  looking  long  into 
her  troubled  eyes.  "  Dorothy,  what  is 
it?  "  he  asked,  with  a  new  gentleness. 

Still  she  would  not  answer  him.  "  I 
think  I  know,"  he  said.  "  Is  it  your 
brother?     Is  it  because " 

"Stop!"  She  freed  herself,  standing 
away  from  him,  a  sudden  wave  of  vivid 
colour  sweeping  her  face.  "  You  must 
stop.  You  have  no  right  to  say 
that," 

Bulj  he  went  on  stlubbornly.  "  I  've 
made  you  angry,  but  I  've  guessed  right. 
You  're  letting  him  come  between  us — 
him,  and  that  damned  money  of  mine. 
You  're  going  to  let  love  go,  just  for  that. 
He  's  played  the  scoundrel,  with  you  and 
me  too,  and  he  '11  do  it  again.  You  're 
letting  him  spoil  both  our  lives,  and  it 
won't  do  any  good.  If  you  find  him, 
he  '11  still  be  nothing  but  a  scoundrel,  and 


'•You  Shall  Love  Me"         197 

he  '11  keep  on  being  one.  You  can't  help 
it.     You " 

"Stop!"  she  cried  again,  imperiously. 
"  Oh,  how  brutal  you  are!  Is  that  what 
love  means  to  you?  Is  that  all  the 
strength  you  get  from  it — the  strength 
to  say  such  things?" 

"  It  gives  me  strength  to  say  what 's 
true,"  he  retorted.  "  You  know  it 's 
true — all  that  I  've  said." 

She  was  death-white  again,  her  clear 
eyes  dark  with  pain.  But  a  supreme 
courage  was  upon  her. 

"  You  are  not  to  speak  of  this  to  me 
again,"  she  said.  "Do  you  understand? 
Never  again.  My  life  is  my  brother's. 
Will  it  comfort  you  if  I  say  I  think  you 
have  told  the  truth  about  him — the  plain, 
dreadful  truth?  He  has  shown  himself 
a  weak,  wicked  man.  I  know  it  as  well 
as  you  do.  What  he  has  done  has  given 
you  the  right  to  say  what  you  have  about 
him  to  me.  But  I  hoped — "  She  hesi- 
tated, striving  for  composure;  then  went 
on  resolutely.     "  I  hoped  you  were  go- 


198  The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

ing  to  help  me,  because  I  needed  a  friend ; 
and  now  you  've  made  it  impossible — 
impossible." 

"Dorothy!"  he  cried  abjectly. 
"Don't,  girl!  Do  you  think  I  was  try- 
ing to  hurt  you? " 

She  stopped  him  mth  a  gesture. 
"  That  does  n't  matter.  We  have  got 
past  all  that.  All  I  ask  of  you  is  that 
you  will  not  speak  another  word  to  me 
about  him,  nor  about — that  other  thing. 
You  must  do  what  I  ask." 

"  You  're  laying  up  a  hard  reckoning 
between  him  and  me,  if  we  ever  get  to- 
gether," he  said,  ^vretchedly. 

"  That  must  be  between  you  and  him," 
she  answered.  "  I  wanted  it  different, 
but  I  can't  help  it  now.  Now  you  must 
let  me  pass." 

She  stooped  and  lifted  the  full  pail, 
and  he  stood  aside,  looking  after  her,  mo- 
tionless, silent,  as  she  moved  away  from 
him  across  the  cactus-strewn  sand.  A 
dull  rage  burned  within  him,  rage  at  him- 
self, at  her,  and  at  the  hopeless  wrong  of 


"You  Shall  Love  Me"        199 

it  all.  The  loi-d  she  carried  was  too  heavy 
and  she  stopped,  passing  it  from  one  hand 
to  the  other.  With  a  smothered  oath  he 
sprang  after  her. 

"  Give  me  that  pail,"  he  commanded, 
and  took  it  from  her  grasp  ^vith  rude 
strength.  "  Now  you  listen  to  what 
I  've  got  to  say.  I  've  been  dead  wrong. 
All  I  've  said  has  been  dead  wrong,  ex- 
cept just  one  thing.  I  love  you.  You 
can't  make  me  quit  that,  nor  I  'm  not  go- 
ing to  quit  it;  do  you  hear?  I  'm  going 
to  keep  on  loving  you.  You  were  made 
for  me  to  love,  and  nothing  you  can  say 
or  do  will  change  it.  I  'm  telling  you 
this  once  more,  so  you  won't  forget. 
Dorothy,  do  you  hear?  " 

She  gave  no  sign,  but  kept  steadfastly 
on,  with  lips  set,  looking  straight  before 
her.  At  the  camp  he  set  the  pail  down 
and  turned  away,  choking  with  passion- 
ate anger  and  passionate  despair. 

Slowly,  sluggishly,  the  train  fared  on- 
ward across  the  wide  waste,  and  at  the 


200  The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

week's  end  it  crept,  weary  and  dust-laden, 
up  to  the  grim  walls  of  old  Fort  Laramie. 
Old  Fort  Laramie!  Never  was  such 
another  paradox.  Outpost  of  law,  and 
refuge  for  every  shade  of  outlawry  since 
Eden;  stronghold  of  hope  for  wayfarers 
hard  beset  in  the  vast  wilderness,  and 
haunt  of  all  the  nameless  evils  of  a  new, 
raw  land;  a  tower  of  strength,  and  a 
ribald  affront  flaunted  in  the  face  of 
Heaven.  Here,  since  the  days  of  the 
fur  traders,  had  been  a  tiny  oasis  in  the 
wilds;  hither,  j^ear  by  year,  had  come 
trappers,  argonauts,  adventurers  of  every 
sort  from  everywhere,  bent  upon  every 
manner  of  border  pilgrimage;  and  here- 
abouts, in  course  of  time,  had  gathered 
and  clung  the  scum  of  this  human  drift. 
Federal  soldiers  were  there — a  mere 
handful  of  weather-beaten  men,  worn 
and  dispirited  by  the  hopeless  task  of 
policing  a  thousand  miles  of  lawless 
frontier ;  but  far  the  greater  number  were 
only  wanderers — Indians  of  many  tribes 
and   hunters    and    trappers    come    in    to 


"You  Shall  Love  Me"        201 

trade,  or  emigrants  and  freighters  halt- 
ing here  by  the  way  to  relax  from  their 
labours,  unbending  body  and  soul  under 
the  spell  of  rare  companionship.  They 
were  vagrant  humours  that  ruled  the 
place — humours  without  rule  or  precept 
save  such  as  lightest  whim  might  set. 
There  was  a  plentiful  store  of  whiskey 
levelling  all  ranks;  all  ranks  held  mad 
carnival  of  debauchery. 

It  was  noon  when  the  train  went  into 
camp  on  the  river  below  the  fort. 
Through  the  afternoon  JNIark  held  away 
from  his  mates,  who  had  thrown  them- 
selves at  once,  with  lusty  abandon,  into 
the  revelry.  He  wanted  none  of  it;  he 
wanted  nothing  but  to  be  alone.  But  at 
evening,  as  he  sat  almost  solitary  over  his 
supper  at  the  freighters'  mess,  Cannon 
came  to  him. 

"  Hello,  Bailey!  "  the  giant  hailed  him. 
*'  I  've  been  lookin'  for  you.  Come 
along  with  me.  There  's  goin'  to  be  the 
very  devil  to  pay,  before  we  get  out  o* 
this.     The    boys    have    started    on    the 


202  The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

drink,  bad.  Jack  's  with  'em  too — wild, 
with  his  pockets  all  turned  inside  out. 
You  know  what  that  means.  And,  say, 
he  "s  here,  too — that  big  Braidlaw.  I 
seen  him,  a  little  bit  ago,  with  a  whole 
barrel  o'  whiskey  in  him,  an'  raisin'  h — 1. 
That  ain't  the  worst  of  it :  Dorothy 's 
lookin'  for  him.  /  did  n't  tell  her ;  but 
she  knows,  somehow.  Come  on:  we  got 
to  kind  o'  keep  around,  you  an'  me." 


VII 

A  WEARY  LAND 

A  LL  day  long,  as  on  all  days  there, 
^~*  liquor  had  flowed  steadily  from  un- 
failing springs,  and  the  crowd  assembled 
about  the  fort,  hundreds  strong,  was 
frenzied  with  its  excesses.  It  was  a  mot- 
ley company.  On  the  wide  sand-bench 
along  the  Platte,  below  the  fort  walls,  the 
waggons  of  the  train  were  scattered  in 
disorder;  near  by,  a  band  of  Sioux  had 
pitched  a  nomads'  camp  of  hide  tepees; 
and  above,  in  the  timber  along  the  brawl- 
ing Laramie,  was  a  village  of  Cheyennes. 
Pretence  of  trade  had  drawn  the  savages 
hither;  but  now  that  was  forgotten,  while 
they  bore  their  part  in  the  night's  drunken 
riot — passion  that  made  the  one  firm  link 
of  kinship  between  themselves  and  the 
master-race.  For  the  time  blood-enmity 
was  drowned  in  the  post  trader's  whis- 
203 


204    The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

key,  and  Cheyennes  and  Sioux  together 
mingled  with  the  whites  in  a  brotherhood 
of  abandon  to  passionate  appetite.  Fur 
hunters  were  there  too,  come  from  the 
streams  and  forests  north,  south,  and 
west,  to  squander  six  months'  hard  earn- 
ings in  a  week  of  furious  carousing.  A 
company  of  Cahfornians,  returning  east- 
ward after  hapless  months  or  years  in  the 
gold  fields,  had  paused  to  buy  brief  for- 
getfulness  of  their  ill  luck;  and  the  emi- 
grants and  freighters  of  the  train  were 
surrendering  themselves,  reckless  and 
care-free,  to  a  madness  of  reaction  after 
the  long,  dull  months  of  isolation  on  the 
trail.  A  stern,  primal  morality  had  held 
these  men  while  the  w^ilderness  enfolded 
them;  but  now  the  pendulum  had  s^vung 
far  backward.  The  veiy  air  was  laden 
with  the  fumes  of  their  drink,  and  shook 
with  their  full-throated  cries,  seeming  to 
reel  with  the  general  debauchery. 

Into  the  thick  of  this  tumult  Mark  and 
Cannon  passed  in  their  search.  Mark 
looked  on  at  the  fervid  spectacle  curiously ; 


A  Weary  Land  205 

in  the  mood  he  bore  there  was  nothing 
in  it  that  revolted  him;  rather,  the  lusty 
human  quality  of  it  appealed  to  him 
strongly,  giving  him  a  sense  of  that  world- 
old  comradeship  which,  for  the  hardy  ones 
of  all  time,  has  lain  in  stripping  the  har- 
ness from  the  work-worn  passions  and 
turning  them  free  to  fling  up  their  heels 
without  let  or  restraint.  To  his  eyes,  as 
to  his  understanding  heart,  the  picture 
was  not  one  of  shameful  weakness,  but  of 
sheer,  robust,  untamed  and  untamable 
strength.  Indecent  it  was  not,  in  his 
sight.  Law  and  order,  the  carefully  bal- 
anced proprieties,  the  nicely  weighed  and 
measured  contrivances  of  book  and  rule, 
seemed  infinitely  remote;  here  was  only 
the  ancient  spirit  of  the  first  manhood, 
with  all  its  hard-learned  lessons  forgot- 
ten, thrown  back  upon  its  owti  rude,  rug- 
ged resources.  Life  and  death,  all  that 
was  past  and  all  that  was  to  come,  were 
wholly  swallowed  up  in  the  riotous  joy  of 
the  present  moment.  Gross  the  picture 
was;  full  of  obscenities,  too,  to  nice  per- 


2o6  The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

ceptions ;  but  aglow  with  the  splendour  of 
unchecked  youth  and  health. 

"  Which  one  of  them  are  we  hunting 
for? "  JMark  questioned.  "  Dorothy 's 
alone,  is  n't  she  ?  We  'd  better  go  to  her 
first.  But  then  what  are  we  going  to 
do?" 

Cannon  turned  to  him  mth  a  grin.  "  I 
dunno,"  he  answered  Kghtly.  "  This  is 
one  o'  the  times  when  I  'm  just  kind  o' 
trustin'  the  Lord.  Mebbe  He  knows 
what 's  what."  His  levity  passed  quickly. 
"  By  God,  it 's  goin'  to  be  hard  on  the 
girl,  if  she  runs  across  that  brother  o' 
her'n  before  we  do.  He  was  up  yonder, 
when  I  saw  him,  at  that  first  shack.  Let 's 
go  up  there." 

The  building  to  which  he  led  the  way 
was  no  more  than  a  temporary  shed  of 
rough  planks,  set  up  just  without  the  fort 
walls — a  mere  tenting-place  of  debauch- 
ery, one  of  many  of  its  kind  that  stood 
without  order  upon  the  sand.  The  one 
room  of  the  building  was  small  and  mean 
and  cramped,  but  large  enough  for  the 


A  Weary  Land  207 

purpose  it  served.  Across  one  end  was  a 
broad  bench  of  unplaned  boards,  breast- 
high,  that  answered  for  a  bar;  behind  the 
bar  stood  barrels  of  whiskey,  with  the 
tops  knocked  in,  and  from  these  the  hq- 
uor  was  being  served  in  tin  cups  to  the 
crowd,  whites  and  Indians  ahke.  Save 
for  the  bar,  the  barrels  and  a  grimy  oil 
lamp  s^^inging  from  the  ceiling,  the  room 
was  quite  bare  of  furnishings;  the  drink- 
ers stood  packed  close,  jostling  together, 
swearing  in  good-humoured  impatience  at 
those  who  tried  to  push  their  way  through 
to  buy.  A  goodly  part  of  the  crowd  had 
overflowed  the  room,  standing  about  the 
door  with  their  cups  in  their  hands;  and 
here,  upon  the  trampled  sand,  were  the 
prone  bodies  of  those  who  had  already 
drunk  to  excess  and  been  cast  out  to  re- 
cover themselves.  There  was  no  room 
inside  for  any  who  had  got  beyond  the 
power  to  spend.  Within  and  without 
the  air  rang  with  a  ribald  confusion  of 
noise. 

Cannon   and   Mark   crowded   into   the 


2o8  The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

throng,    scanning   the   faces   in   the   dim 
Hght. 

"  He  ain't  here,"  Cannon  said.  "  He 
was  with  this  bunch,  a  bit  ago ;  but  he  's 
gone  somewhere  else.  We  '11  just  have 
to  blow  around,  different  places,  I 
reckon." 

But  he  lingered  for  a  time,  looking  on 
at  the  turmoil  as  though  with  tolerant 
amusement. 

"Don't  it  beat  the  world!"  he  said 
presently,  with  a  deep  laugh.  "  I  've 
been  watchin'  'em,  all  afternoon.  Think 
o'  trustin'  that  kind  of  chaps  with  respon- 
sibility, like  we  've  been  doin'  !  Ain't  it 
funny?  You  wouldn't  trust  'em  with 
nothin'  now,  except  devilment.  But 
when  the}^  're  sobered  up,  they  '11  go  right 
ahead  and  make  this  country  a  place  fit 
to  live  in.  They  '11  build  towns  and  rail- 
roads, an'  they  '11  make  laws,  an'  all  that 
kind  o'  thing;  an'  they  '11  do  it  right,  too. 
But  now  look  at  'em!  " 

A  newcomer  elbowed  his  way  in  and 
approached  the  bar,  carrying  himself  with 


A  Weary  Land  209 

an  air  of  authority.  He  was  a  middle- 
aged,  bearded  man  wearing  the  uniform 
of  the  army,  with  a  captain's  shoulder- 
straps.  Long  service  had  faded  the  colour 
of  his  dress,  and  the  skin  over  his  cheek- 
bones was  tanned  by  exposure  to  a  deep 
bronze.  He  took  no  account  of  any  in 
the  room,  but  rapped  with  his  gauntleted 
knuckles  upon  the  boards. 

"  Simons!  "  he  called  sharply  to  one  of 
those  behind  the  bar — a  black-browed, 
broad-chested  fellow,  with  flannel  sleeves 
rolled  high  upon  hairy  arms,  who  was 
busily  serving  the  drinkers.  The  man 
glanced  up  with  easy  indifference. 

"  Take  your  turn,  Cap,"  he  growled. 
"  There 's  lots   of  thirsts  here   ahead  of 

you." 

The  officer  shouldered  his  way  closer. 
"  See  here,  Simons,"  he  said  sternly.  *'  I 
warned  j^ou  this  afternoon  that  you  must 
stop  selling  to  these  Indians.  Why 
have  n't  you  obeyed?  " 

The  other  affected  not  to  heed.     He 

began  making  change  for  a  patron,  count- 
14 


2IO  The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

ing  the  coins  slowly  down  from  a  pile  of 
silver  and  gold  that  lay  upon  the  boards, 
taking  a  needless  time  to  it.  An  angry 
light  shone  in  the  officer's  eyes,  and  his 
lips  were  set;  but  he  waited,  holding  him- 
self under  control,  until  the"  transaction 
was  finished.  Then  Simons  turned  to  the 
waiting  drinkers. 

"Quick,  boys,"  he  urged.  "There's 
lots  waitin'.     Whiskey? " 

Some  of  them  nodded  in  answer,  and 
the  fellow  prepared  to  set  out  their  cups. 

"  Simons ! "  The  word  carried  a  me- 
tallic ring.  "  You  attend  to  me.  Why 
haven't  you  done  as  I  ordered?" 

"Oh,  you  be  damned!"  Simons  re- 
torted. "  I  'm  busy.  Can't  you  see? 
Come  back  by  and  by,  if  you  want  to 
talk."  With  that  he  began  to  fill  another 
lot  of  cups  from  the  nearest  barrel,  and 
turned  to  place  them  on  the  bar;  but  the 
officer  raised  the  sword-scabbard  that 
hung  from  his  belt  and  brought  it  down 
smartly  acrossi  the  hairy  wrist,  spilling 
the  liquor  in  a  broad  spattering  shower 


A  Weary  Land  2 1 1 

over  the  floor.  Roaring  an  oath,  Simons 
tried  to  draw  his  pistol  from  its  holster  on 
his  hip;  but  the  blow  had  benumbed  his 
hand,  and  he  bungled  badly.  The  captain 
leaped  lightly  across  the  bar  and  stood 
confronting  him. 

"None  of  that!"  he  commanded. 
"  You  dare  to  draw  that  gun  and  I  '11 
have  you  hanged.     Drop  your  hands!  " 

His  voice  and  eyes  compelled  obedi- 
ence. Surlily,  Simons  let  his  big  hands 
fall  at  his  sides. 

"  I  ordered  you  to  stop  selling  your 
whiskey  to  these  Indians,"  the  captain  re- 
peated. "  You  knew  the  reasons  for  the 
order.  Now  why  haven't  you  followed 
it?" 

'*  I  know  my  business,"  Simons  growled, 
"  and  I  know  my  rights.  I  'm  outside 
the  fort.  You  haven't  got  any  author- 
ity here.  Why  the  h — 1  don't  you  keep 
where  you  belong? " 

The  other  choked  back  his  rising  wrath. 
"  You  've  got  to  stop,"  he  said.  "  You 
know,  as  well  as  any  man  here,  what  we  '11 


2 1 2  The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

have  to  face  if  you  keep  on.  It  '11  mean 
bloodshed,  as  it  has  a  dozen  times  before. 
I  mean  to  be  obeyed.  I  '11  not  discuss  my 
authority  with  you.  Will  you  do  as  I 
tell  you? " 

Simons  leered  around  upon  the  faces 
of  the  crowd,  and  what  he  saw  there 
seemed  to  renew  his  courage. 

"  I  know  my  business,"  he  said  again, 
with  an  evil  oath.  "  I  've  got  this  whis- 
key here  to  sell,  and  I  'm  goin'  to  sell  it 
to  anybody  that's  got  the  price;  I  don't 
give  a  damn  what  colour  he  is." 

"  There  are  women  and  children  in  the 
camps.  If  trouble  starts,  they  '11  be  in 
danger.     Have  you  thought  of  that? " 

''  I  did  n't  bring  'em  here,"  Simons  re- 
torted. "  They  're  none  of  mine.  You 
blue-bellies  are  here  to  look  after  them, 
if  they  need  it.  It 's  none  of  my  lookout." 
The  officer  turned  to  the  crowd. 
"  You  'd  better  clear  out  of  here,  boys," 
he  said.  "  I  don't  want  any  difficulty 
with  you,  but  I  'm  going  to  bring  men  to 
close   the   place   and  keep   it   closed.     I 


A  Weary  Land  213 

can't  prevent  your  drinking;  but  if  you 
want  any  more  whiskey,  you  '11  have  to 
get  it  somewhere  else.  I  'm  going  to  up- 
set every  barrel  here." 

He  stooped  beneath  the  bar  and  passed 
quietly  out,  the  crowd  parting  in  silence 
to  make  way  for  him.  Simons  sent  after 
him  an  insolent  laugh. 

"  Upset  it,  will  j^ou,  you  ! "  he 

shouted.  "  There  '11  be  some  you  don't 
get."  He  seized  an  axe  and  tore  the 
planks  of  the  bar  from  their  supports, 
then  stood  aside  ^ith  a  gesture.  "  Help 
yourselves,  boys!"  he  cried.  "It's  free. 
Take  all  you  can.  Fill  up  these  bottles 
and  get  'em  away.  If  those  damned 
blue-bellies  get  any,  it 's  your  fault. 
Quick,  now !  " 

There  was  a  shi'ill  answering  cheer  and 
a  forward  crush  to  be  amongst  the  fa- 
voured.    Cannon  spoke  in  Mark's  ear, 

"  Let 's  go.  We  don't  want  to  be  in 
the  mix ;  we  've  got  something  else  to  look 
after.  They  '11  be  raisin'  Cain  here  in  a 
minute." 


214  The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

They  could  do  no  more  than  wander 
here  and  there,  at  hap-hazard,  keeping  a 
lookout  in  the  shifting  disorder  of  the 
mob.  Suddenly  Mark  cried  "  There 's 
Dorothy!"  and  broke  into  a  run,  with 
Cannon  labouring  heavily  at  his  heels. 

She  had  been  following  her  quest  alone. 
As  they  caught  sight  of  her,  she  was 
passing  a  group  seated  about  a  fire  on  the 
ground,  drinking  and  shouting.  She 
paused  for  a  moment,  glancing  quickly 
over  their  faces,  from  a  little  distance. 
One  of  the  men,  a  burly  trapper,  espied 
her  and  staggered  to  his  feet,  advancing 
toward  her,  laughing  and  holding  a  bot- 
tle above  his  head.  She  drew  back;  but 
he  caught  her  arm  and  held  her,  with 
a  drunken,  coarse  jest.  With  all  her 
strength  she  struggled  to  free  herself, 
and  the  fellow  reeled  unsteadily  and  fell 
at  his  length,  lying  helpless  upon  his  back, 
his  big  hand  grasping  her  skirt  and  hold- 
ing it  fast. 

"Stay   here,    you   beauty!"    he    cried. 


A  Weary  Land  215 

Aflame  with  anger,  Mark  stood  over 
him.     "  Let  go!  "  he  ordered. 

The  fellow  kept  his  hold,  blinking  tip- 
sily.  "You  clear  out!"  he  returned. 
"  She 's  mine.  I  saw  her  first.  You  get 
one  of  your  own." 

With  all  his  might  Mark  drove  his 
knotted  fist  upon  the  leering  face,  again 
and  again,  in  savage  rage,  crushing  the 
thick  lips,  opening  a  deep  cut  upon  the 
full-fleshed  cheek,  every  blow  bringing 
a  spurt  of  blood.  Blinded,  stunned,  the 
man  tried  to  rise,  thrusting  out  his  arms 
in  a  feeble  effort  at  defence;  but  Mark 
beat  him  back  until  he  laj^  still.  Several 
of  his  companions  were  upon  their  feet; 
but  their  wits  were  thick  with  drink,  and 
they  were  slow  in  coming  to  his  aid. 
Mark  turned  to  Dorothy,  who,  white  with 
terror,  clung  to  Cannon,  his  huge  arm 
about  her  waist. 

"Quick!"  he  cried.  "We'll  have  to 
run  for  it."  He  caught  her  arm,  Cannon 
supporting  her  upon  the  other  side;  and 


2i6  The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

between  them  they  hurried  her  away, 
dodging  and  doubhng  through  the 
throng.  When  they  paused  at  last,  she 
was  near  to  fainting,  weak  with  fear. 
Mark  spoke  sharply. 

"  You  must  go  back  to  Mrs.  Cannon. 
This  is  no  place  for  you.  Let  Cannon 
take  you  away." 

Her  hand  still  lay  upon  his  arm.  She 
looked  at  him,  wide-eyed,  her  manner  full 
of  helpless  appeal;  but  rudely  he  shook 
himself  free,  steeling  himself,  his  lips  set 
inflexibly.  The  mood  that  was  at  once 
his  strongest  and  his  worst  was  wholly 
ascendant  in  him,  his  hot  blood  tingling 
to  his  finger-tips,  making  tenderness  im- 
possible. "  Go,  go!  "  he  said,  with  harsh 
impatience. 

She  shook  her  head.  "  No,"  she  re- 
turned, almost  inaudibly.  "  I  must  stay 
here.     I  must  find  him." 

He  could  not  master  himself.  "  What 
good  can  you  do?"  he  demanded. 
"  You  're  in  the  way.  Cannon  and  I 
can  hunt  for  him  a  lot  better  without  you 


A  Weary  Land  217 

— without  having  to  drag  you  around 
and  look  after  you.  You  11  only  make 
trouble." 

She  shrank  before  his  anger.  Cannon 
spoke  with  rough  gentleness.  "  Come, 
little  girl.  He  's  right.  We  '11  look  af- 
ter him.     You  come  with  me." 

But  she  was  resolute.  "  I  must  find 
him,"  she  repeated.  "  You  need  n't  stay 
with  me.     But  I  can't  go." 

"What  are  you  going  to  do?"  Mark 
insisted.  "  Suppose  you  find  him,  what 
are  you  going  to  do  then? " 

"  I  don't  know,"  she  answered,  fearful- 
ly. "  I  don't  know.  But  I  must  find  him." 

Mark  turned  upon  his  heel  with  a  rasp- 
ing laugh.  "  Let  her  come,  Joe,  if  she 
won't  go.  It  takes  a  woman  to  be 
reasonable ! " 

"There,  there!"  Cannon  interposed, 
his  voice  softened  with  kindness.  "  You 
go  ahead,  Bailey,  by  yourself,  and  leave 
her  here  ^vith  me.  You  'd  better  do  that. 
I  '11  see  that  nothin'  don't  happen  to  her. 
Go  on  now." 


2i8  The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

Dorothy  stood,  looking  from  one  to  the 
other  of  the  men's  faces,  so  strongly  con- 
trasted in  their  different  emotions.  It 
was  to  Cannon  that  she  clung  in  her  ex- 
tremity. The  giant's  eyes  met  INIark's  in  a 
man's  look  of  understanding,  and  with  a 
gesture  he  urged  him  awa3^  Because  he 
feared  to  stay,  Mark  turned  and  left  them. 

For  what  seemed  an  endless  time  he 
walked  about,  wanting  any  clear  intent, 
scanning  the  faces,  half  deafened  by  the 
uproar.  Once,  approaching  a  second 
group  upon  the  sand,  deep  in  the  general 
revel,  he  paused. 

"  Say,"  he  said  to  one  of  those  least 
drunk,  "  do  you  know  a  man  around  here 
named  Braidlaw?" 

The  fellow  regarded  him  briefly,  his 
eyes  ahght  with  tipsy  deviltry.  "  Braid- 
law?  Sure  I  do!  Bill  Braidlaw.  He's 
been  around— Bill  Braidlaw,  blind  drunk. 
Where  's  Braid,  boys?  He  's  got  lost  in 
the  shuffle  somewheres;  but  he's  around. 
What  do  you  want  him  for?  Sit  down 
here,  you ,  and  drink  with  us." 


A  Weary  Land  219 

Mark  shook  his  head.  "  Not  now, 
boys.     After  a  while." 

"After  a  while!"  the  other  scoffed. 
"  The  time  to  drink  whiskey  is  now.  Sit 
down.  This  whiskey  did  n't  cost  nothin'. 
It  come  from  Simons's,  an'  free  whiskey 
don't  last  no  time.     Have  some! " 

But  ]Mark  turned  away  to  continue  his 
quest.  Everywhere  Simons's  liquor  was 
flowing  in  abundance.  The  roisterers 
seemed  to  have  taken  care  that  a  full  share 
should  fall  into  the  hands  of  the  Indians; 
Sioux  and  Cheyennes  had  it  in  plenty, 
and  were  fast  drinking  themselves  into 
frenzy.  What  the  soldiers  had  feared 
seemed  most  likely  to  come  to  pass,  for 
already  the  drunken  companies  were  quar- 
relling amongst  themselves,  lashing  them- 
selves into  an  evil  mood. 

His  aimless  wandering  brought  him  at 
last,  seemingly  by  merest  chance,  upon 
those  he  sought.  The  meeting  came  in 
another  drinking  resort,  much  like  the 
first,  but  roomier,  with  rough  board  tables 
ranged   in    rows    near    together.     About 


220  The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

these  tables  men  were  crowded,  gaming 
and  drinking,  the  rattle  of  chips  mingling 
sharply  with  the  confusion  of  voices.  A 
roulette  wheel,  dingy  with  years  of  hard 
service,  stood  in  the  middle  of  the  room, 
the  players  massed  closely  about  it;  card 
games  were  going  on  furiously  at  other 
tables;  the  bar  was  doing  a  thriving 
trade. 

Forrester  and  Braidlaw  sat  together  at 
one  of  the  tables,  that  was  wet  with  spilled 
liquor,  and  standing  around  them  were  a 
dozen  men,  lounging  and  laughing  over 
their  drink.  Forrester  seemed  the  genius 
of  the  group;  as  Cannon  had  said,  his 
pockets  were  "inside  out";  he  was  buy- 
ing for  all,  jovially  urging  them  on.  His 
face  was  flushed  with  his  own  excess,  his 
eyes  flaming,  his  lips  loosely  parted. 

"Drink  hearty,  boys!"  he  cried  in 
maudlin  fellowship.  "  You  're  all  my 
friends,  ain't  you?  I  'm  paying  for 
all  my  friends.  Devilish  bad  whiskey, 
though.  Never  mind ;  it 's  whiskey,  so 
drink  it — drink  it!"     He  raised  his  own 


A  Weary  Land  221 

cup  to  his  lips;  but  his  hand  was  un- 
steady, and  the  hquor  spilled  down  upon 
him,  wetting  his  face  and  shirt,  and  the 
crowd  broke  into  hoarse,  jeering  laugh- 
ter. He  joined  in  the  laugh,  wiping  the 
clinging  drops  from  his  face  upon 
his  sleeve.  "Damned  good  joke!"  he 
chuckled.  "  Never  mind,  there 's  lots 
more  that  ain't  spilled  yet.  Well,  spill 
it  into  you,  and  let 's  order  again. 

They  were  nothing  loath,  and  a  fresh 
supply  was  brought  from  the  bar. 

"  Here's  luck!  "  Forrester  cried.  "  Now 
you  boys  drink  my  luck.  Have  n't  got 
any  luck:  but  drink  it  anyway."  He 
stared  foolishly  around  upon  the  circle  of 
faces.  "  Ever  been  disappointed  in  love?  " 
he  queried  with  tipsy  emotion.  "  Hard 
luck,  ain't  it?  Never  mind!"  He  beat 
upon  the  table  with  his  cup,  laughing  his 
dare-devil  laugh. 

"  If  the  girl  you  love  don't  love  you, 
never  say  die,  and  stick  to  it.  That 's 
what  I  say.  Ain't  that  right?  Drink, 
then!" 


2  22  The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

Mark  had  pushed  his  way  into  the  front 
rank  of  the  crowd,  and  stood  behind 
Braidlaw,  who  lolled  upon  the  table,  his 
head  supported  upon  his  hands.  Sud- 
denly Forrester  caught  sight  of  Mark, 
and  stared  at  him  fixedly,  dazed  for  a 
moment.  But  he  was  not  daunted  nor 
sobered. 

"Behold,  the  bridegroom  cometh!  "  he 
shouted,  and  got  unsteadily  to  his  feet. 
"  Drink  to  the  bridegroom!  There  's  the 
man,  damn  him  and  God  bless  him! 
Luck  to  Mark  Bailey!  " 

At  the  words,  a  swift  change  came  upon 
Braidlaw.  He  sat  erect  like  one  startled 
out  of  heavy  sleep,  but  with  senses  sat- 
urated and  weighted  down  by  lethargy. 
His  debauch  had  plainly  continued  for 
many  days;  his  brain  was  filled  with  dis- 
ordered visions,  confused  by  this  sudden, 
rude  awakening  to  reality. 

"What?"  he  said  dully.  "What  did 
you  say? "  His  eyes,  clouded  with  the 
fumes  of  his  drink,  yet  with  feverish  fire 
smouldering  in  their  dark  depths,  turned 


A  Weary  Land  223 

slowly  from  one  to  another  of  the  faces, 
resting  upon  Mark's  at  last.  The  un- 
wholesome flush  upon  his  swarthy  cheeks 
faded  to  a  sick,  gray  pallor;  then  the 
blood  came  surging  back  in  a  red  flood. 
A  thick,  choking  exclamation  escaped 
him,  and  he  arose  with  slow,  painful  ef- 
fort, as  though  a  load  rested  upon  him. 
Mark  stood  within  arm's  length,  grim, 
powerful,  menacing.  Involuntarily  Braid- 
law  drew  back,  leaning  limply  with  his 
broad  shoulders  against  the  wall.  Mark's 
voice  was  tense  with  a  note  of  brutal 
triumph. 

"  Well,  I  've  found  you,"  he  said. 
"  You  don't  seem  glad  to  see  me." 

Braidlaw  did  not  answer,  but  stood 
staring,  staring.  Forrester  came  un- 
steadily around  the  table  and  stood  be- 
tween them,  laying  his  hand  upon  Mark's 
breast. 

"  Come,  now,  be  good,"  he  laughed 
with  drunken  amiability.  "  It 's  all 
right,  Mark.  We  '11  fix  it  all  right.  Be 
a  good  fellow." 


2  24  The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

Without  looking  at  him,  Mark  roughly 
shook  himself  free  of  the  detaining  hand; 
but  Forrester  persisted.  "  It 's  all  right, 
I  tell  you.  Don't  j^ou  raise  the  devil 
about  a  little  thing  like  that.  Come  and 
sit  down.     What '11  you   drink?" 

"Be  quiet,  will  you!"  Mark  flared 
angrily.     "  You  're   drunk." 

"That's  right!"  Forrester  returned 
easily.  "  I  'm  drunk.  So 's  he.  You 
come  and  get  drunk  too,  and  then  when 
we  're  all  sober,  we  '11  fix  it  up.  Say, 
Mark,  he 's  her  brother — Dorothy's 
brother,  you  know.  You  don't  want  to 
be  hard  on  her.     You " 

Mark  turned  upon  the  boy  fiercely, 
catching  him  by  the  shoulders  and  forc- 
ing him  backward  upon  the  table.  With 
his  open  hand  he  struck  the  laughing  face 
a  sharp  blow,  then  lifted  him  again  to 
his  feet.  "  Don't  you  dare  speak  her 
name  again,  till  you  're  sober,"  he  cried, 
and  threw  the  limp  body  from  him  with 
all  his  strength.  Forrester  tried  to 
catch  his  footing,  but  could  not,  and  fell 


A  Weary  Land  225 

with  violence  to  the  floor  in  a  corner, 
where  he  lay  quite  still. 

But  his  words  had  wrought  a  change  in 
INIark's  mood.  This  was  not  the  time  for 
his  own  quarrel.  He  took  Braidlaw's 
arm  in  his  strong  hand.  "  Come,"  he 
said.  "  Your  sister  's  here.  She  wants 
you." 

Braidlaw  had  spoken  not  a  word,  nor 
did  he  speak  now.  His  only  answer  was 
a  blow  of  his  clenched  fist,  that  caught 
Mark  full  upon  the  face.  In  another 
moment  they  had  closed,  and  were  strug- 
gling with  the  fury  of  wild  beasts,  while 
the  crowd  gathered  about  them,  jostling, 
swaying,  swearing  with  delight. 

Braidlaw's  prolonged  carouse  had  en- 
feebled neither  will  nor  body;  it  seemed 
instead  to  have  brought  his  everj^  power 
to  the  full.  He  fought  savagely,  pas- 
sionately, giving  and  taking  blow  for 
blow  fiercely,  indomitably.  Mark  knew 
at  once  that  he  had  found  his  match  in 
strength,  in  temper,  in  all  that  makes  the 
fighter. 


2  26  The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

Yet  the  struggle  was  very  brief.  After 
the  first  bhnd  onset,  Mark's  brain  cleared, 
leaving  him  perfect  master  of  himself. 
He  ceased  his  aggression,  taking  the  de- 
fensive, backing  off  inch  by  inch,  using 
all  his  cunning  to  coax  his  antagonist  on. 
The  onlookers  misinterpreted,  thinking 
him  already  bested,  and  broke  into  shrill 
cheers,  crying  encouragement  to  Braid- 
law.  He  too  was  deceived;  gathering 
himself,  he  thi'ew  all  his  weight  and 
strength  into  a  mad  rush  and  a  full-arm 
blow  straight  from  the  shoulder.  But 
the  blow  fell  upon  empty  air.  With  tiger- 
like litheness  and  agility,  INIark  stooped 
low,  crouching  for  an  instant,  bracing 
himself,  then,  with  his  every  muscle 
strung  to  its  uttermost  tension,  casting 
himself  forward  with  the  power  of  sprung 
steel,  driving  his  mighty  shoulder  full 
against  Braidlaw's  breast.  He  reeled  un- 
der the  shock,  slipping  to  his  knees, 
wrenched  and  shaken,  but  exulting;  for 
he  knew  he  had  won.  Braidlaw  stood 
erect,  motionless,  the  breath  driven  from 


A  Weary  Land  227 

his  body,  his  arms  hanging  at  his  sides, 
his  eyes  starting,  his  face  convulsed  with 
agony.  On  the  instant  Mark  leaped 
upon  him,  and  he  fell  heavily,  with  Mark 
lying  upon  him,  grappling  for  the  last 
effort,  feeling  for  a  hold  upon  his  throat 
to  strangle  him. 

"Look  out!"  a  voice  called,  seeming 
to  come  from  far  off.  "  Look  out  for  his 
knife!" 

From  its  sheath  at  his  belt,  Braidlaw 
had  drawn  a  broad  hunting  blade  and 
was  feebly  trying  to  use  it  against  Mark's 
side,  thrusting  blindly,  without  aim  or 
strength.  Mark  caught  the  groping 
arm  with  both  his  hands,  wrenching  it 
back  until  the  knife  fell  to  the  floor.  He 
seized  it  and  raised  it  to  strike.  Before 
his  eyes  there  flashed  a  broad  sheet  of  red 
flame,  quivering,  vivid,  and  his  ears  were 
deafened  as  by  the  roar  of  a  great  wind. 
But  through  that  sound  a  voice  reached 
him — a  woman's  scream,  terrified,  agon- 
ised, and  the  blow  did  not  fall-  All  at 
once    his    rage    and    hatred    died    down 


22  8  The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

within  him,  leaving  him  hstless,  emotion- 
less. Slowly  he  arose,  his  every  move- 
ment costing  an  effort,  and  stood  looking 
down  upon  Braidlaw,  who  lay  inert  at  his 
feet.  The  knife  was  still  in  his  hand. 
He  regarded  it  blankly,  then  let  it  fall 
from  his  grasp  and  struck  it  with  his  foot, 
kicking  it  into  the  crowd. 

"  Get  up,"  he  said,  with  dull  quiet. 
"  You  're  not  hurt.  Get  up."  He  put 
his  arms  about  Braidlaw's  shoulders,  and 
would  have  lifted  him  to  his  feet ;  but  in  a 
moment  he  let  the  body  fall  again,  for, 
as  through  a  grey  mist,  he  saw  Dorothy 
kneel  at  his  side. 

Without  knowing  what  he  did,  Mark 
turned  and  pushed  through  the  crowd; 
and  when  he  was  free  he  broke  into  a  run, 
passing  the  boisterous  groups  about  the 
fires;  passing  the  shadowy  clusters  of  the 
Indian  tepees;  hurrying  on  and  on  until 
the  fort  and  the  encampments  were  left 
far  behind,  and  he  was  stumbling  through 
a  pathless  tangle  of  sage-brush  on  the 
hills.     Once,    breathless    and    exhausted. 


A  Weary  Land  229 

he  fell,  and  there  he  lay  for  a  long  time 
without  moving,  staring  up  at  the  shin- 
ing stars.  His  senses  were  awake,  but 
volition  seemed  quite  dead.  He  could 
take  no  account  of  time.  By  and  by  he 
arose,  and,  neither  knowing  nor  caring 
where  he  went,  walked  onward,  until  the 
boundless  waste  enclosed  him  completely. 
There  he  lay  down  again,  while  the  night 
passed  over  him.  He  did  not  sleep;  he 
could  not.  Nor  could  he  think,  though 
he  tried  a  little.  His  excitement  had 
quite  spent  itself,  leaving  only  utter  weari- 
ness of  body  and  mind;  he  looked  back 
upon  the  night's  events  with  an  interest 
that  was  almost  impersonal,  so  profound 
was  his  apathy.  The  night  silence  w^as 
deatlilike,  save  once,  when  a  prairie  wolf 
drew  near  his  resting  place,  creeping  up 
stealthily,  and  startling  him  by  its  sud- 
den, shrill  wail.  Lying  where  he  was,  he 
drew  his  pistol  and  fired,  and  the  beast 
vanished  like  a  flying  ghost,  leaving  him 
to  his  solitude.  Not  until  the  sky  began 
to  show  the  first  cold  grey  of  da^vn  did 


230  The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

he  stir  again.  When  the  hght  grew 
stronger,  and  he  arose,  he  found  himself 
upon  a  hilltop,  looking  do^\Ti  upon  the 
fort  and  the  cluster  of  waggons  and  In- 
dian lodges,  that  lay  in  the  heart  of  the 
valley,  five  miles  awaj^ 

He  did  not  try  to  think  what  was  to 
come  next  in  the  drama;  that  must  take 
care  of  itself.  It  was  only  the  animal 
that  was  living  in  him  now.  His  old 
wound  pained  him;  his  whole  body  was 
strained  and  sore;  ravenous  hunger  pos- 
sessed him.  More  than  anything  else  he 
wanted  food  and  sleep.  Doggedly  he  set 
off  toward  the  camp. 

The  places  of  the  night's  adventures 
were  very  quiet  as  he  passed,  though  it 
was  nearing  sunrise.  Some  of  the  rev- 
ellers had  found  shelter,  but  many  lay 
stretched  upon  the  sand,  sleeping  off 
their  liquor,  recruiting  their  jaded  spirit 
and  strength  for  what  the  new  day  might 
bring.  At  the  Sioux  village  some  ugly 
old  squaws  w^ere  moving  shiftlessly  about, 
kindling  breakfast  fires  and  bringing  wa- 


A  Weary  Land  231 

ter  from  the  river;  and  where  the  freight- 
ers were  encamped,  a  few  of  the  emigrant 
women  were  astir,  preparing  the  morning 
meal;  yet  for  the  most  part  the  plain 
looked  like  a  battle-field,  strewn  with  the 
fallen. 

At  the  freighters'  mess  of  his  own  train 
Mark  found  the  cook  at  work,  making 
coffee  and  slicing  bacon.  The  man  looked 
at  his  haggard  face  and  grinned. 

"  Give  me  something  to  eat,  Jimmy," 
Mark  said.  "  Quick — anything ;  I  'm 
starved."  He  poured  for  himself  a  pint- 
tinful  of  the  thick,  black  coffee,  drink- 
ing it  in  deep  gulps,  tearing  greedily 
at  the  bread  and  meat  that  was  given 
him. 

"Lord,  what  a  stomach  you've  got!" 
the  cook  commented.  "  The  rest  of  the 
boys  won't  want  no  breakfast.  Sick!  I 
never  seen  such  a  sick  lot.  They  'd  give 
good  money  to  know  how  you  do  it — I 
would  myself.  Out  all  night,  and  eat 
like  that!" 

"  It 's  easy,  Jimmy,"  Mark  answered 


232  The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

stolidly,  his  mouth  full  of  the  half -cooked 
bacon. 

While  he  ate,  Forrester  came  to  him. 
The  boy  was  deathly  pale,  a  picture  of 
shame  and  misery.  Mark  glanced  at 
him,  without  a  word,  then  returned  to 
his  breakfast.  Forrester  sat  down  upon 
the  sand,  with  his  head  bent  upon  his 
lifted  knees,  waiting  for  the  courage  to 
speak.  But  Mark  would  not  help  him. 
When  he  thought  of  the  spectacle  For- 
rester had  made,  his  anger  returned 
faintly,  with  a  sense  of  disgust  and 
revulsion. 

"  Oh,  good  God !  "  Forrester  groaned. 
He  put  out  one  shaking  hand  and  touched 
Mark  lightly  upon  the  arm.  "  Help  me. 
Mark." 

But  Mark  kept  stubborn  silence,  eat- 
ing with  wolfish  zest.  When  he  had 
finished,  Forrester  still  sat  as  at  first. 

"  I  can't  help  you,"  Mark  said  then. 
"  There  's  nothing  I  can  do.  What  hap- 
pened last  night,  after — after  I  left? 
What  did  s/i^  do?" 


A  Weary  Land  233 

Forrester  raised  his  head,  languidly, 
staring  away  across  the  grey  waste  of 
hills  and  plain.  "  It  was  no  use,"  he  said. 
"  She  tried  to  take  him  with  her,  but  he 
would  n't  go.  He  said  he  's  going  to  stay 
here  and  drink  himself  to  death.  He  was 
a  brute — he  'd  have  struck  her,  if  it  had  n't 
been  for  Cannon.  He  was  drinking  all 
the  rest  of  the  night.     It 's  no  use." 

Mark  pushed  aside  his  cup  and  plate 
and  arose.  He  had  eaten  his  fill,  and 
now  he  craved  sleep.  The  sight  of  For- 
rester's sorrow  and  contrition  did  not 
move  him;  even  the  thought  of  Dorothy's 
need  brought  no  stir  of  feeling.  Those 
things  were  out  of  his  keeping;  he  had 
finished  his  part.  He  went  to  his  waggon 
and  crawled  beneath  it,  stretching  him- 
self upon  the  bare  earth,  and  falling  at 
once  into  deep  slumber. 

His  sleep  was  the  stupor  of  exhaustion. 
For  hours  he  lay  without  moving.  To- 
ward noon,  when  the  sun  shone  dazzlingly 
in  upon  his  face,  he  was  half  aroused  for 
a  moment,  but  only  to  roll  over  into  the 


234  The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

shadow  and  sleep  again.  The  day  was 
full  of  a  noisier  madness  than  the  one  be- 
fore; but  no  least  sound  of  its  turmoil 
reached  him. 

It  was  near  sunset  when  he  awoke  and 
crept  from  his  shelter,  stood  up  and 
stretched  and  shook  himself.  Full  con- 
sciousness did  not  come  at  once;  recollec- 
tion of  what  had  passed  returned  scrap 
by  scrap.  His  every  muscle  ached;  but 
after  his  rest,  life  was  again  strong  in 
him. 

The  freighters'  camp  seemed  quite  de- 
serted. Above,  where  the  saloons  and 
gambling  houses  were  clustered,  a  curious 
quiet  prevailed.  INIen  were  gathered  in 
groups  or  going  about,  as  yesterday,  but 
as  though  their  frenzy  was  abated.  From 
where  he  stood,  Mark  saw  that  a  few 
soldiers,  with  rifles  upon  their  shoulders, 
and  accoutred  with  sidearms,  were  pac- 
ing back  and  forth  here  and  there,  as 
though  on  police  duty.  The  only  sign  of 
commotion  was  at  the  Sioux  camp.  A 
strong  patrol  of  soldiers  surrounded  it; 


A  Weary  Land  235 

the  skin  tepees  were  being  rapidly  taken 
down;  a  score  of  ponies  stood  meekly  by, 
bearing  pack-saddlers  and  travois  poles, 
and  these  were  being  loaded  with  all 
speed. 

Mark  ran  toward  the  fort,  wondering. 
The  first  man  he  met  was  one  of  the 
soldiers. 

"  What 's  happened?  "  Mark  asked. 

The  other  regarded  him  curiously. 
"Where  you  been?"  he  returned. 

"Asleep,"  Mark  answered.  "  I  've 
slept  all  day,  hard." 

"  Then  you  've  slept  through  a  half- 
hour  of  hell,"  the  soldier  said.  "  Some  of 
your  fellows — the  freighters  and  the  rest 
— got  crazy-drunk,  and  a  mob  of  'em 
went  over  to  pick  a  fuss  with  them  Sioux, 
for  devilment.  They  sure  had  what  they 
went  after.  The  Sioux  was  pretty  drunk 
too.  It  took  every  man  we  've  got  to 
pull  'em  apart  an'  get  the  Indians  started 
off.  There  's  two  of  'em  they  '11  have  to 
bury,  likely,  before  long — all  shot  up;  an' 
one  of  your  gang's  dead.     He  was  one 


236  The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

that 's  been  around  for  a  little  spell — 
what 's  his  name,  now?  They  say  his  sis- 
ter just  got  here,  yeste'day." 

"Dead!"  Mark  echoed.  "  GodI 
Where  is  he? " 

"  Up  yonder,  at  the  Simons  shack — ^the 
one  we  closed  up  last  night." 

With  halting,  uncertain  steps,  a  chill 
at  his  heart,  Mark  went  onward  until  he 
joined  the  hushed  group  about  the  door 
of  the  shanty;  but  there  he  paused,  hold- 
ing back,  peering  fearfully  within.  A 
rude  bed  of  blankets  had  been  spread  in 
the  centre  of  the  floor,  and  upon  it  lay 
Braidlaw's  body,  strong,  stalwart,  as  if  he 
slept,  the  disorder  of  his  death  not  yet 
smoothed  away.  Dorothy  lay  upon  the 
earthen  floor,  her  head  pillowed  upon  the 
dead  man's  broad  breast;  and  at  her  side 
knelt  Mrs.  Cannon,  stroking  the  girl's 
hair  quietly,  waiting  for  the  time  to 
speak. 

When  Braidlaw  had  been  buried,  two 
days  later,  the  train  prepared  to  go  on  its 
westward  way.       The  men  were  ready; 


A  Weary  Land  237 

after  the  catastrophe  of  death,  they  had 
no  more  heart  for  their  debauch ;  they  were 
glad  to  take  up  their  work. 

INIark  too  was  glad.  The  dreadful 
hours  had  been  like  a  nightmare;  he 
wanted  to  forget.  He  had  suffered 
keenly;  not  as  a  sharer  in  Dorothy's  suf- 
fering, but  ^\ith  a  pain  and  despair  wholly 
his  own.  Not  once  had  he  talked  to  the 
girl,  or  offered  to  aid  her;  he  had  kept 
quite  to  himself,  brooding,  brooding.  He 
was  not  afraid ;  it  was  a  sense  of  complete 
powerlessness  that  gripped  him  and  held 
him  back.  Nothing  that  his  will  had 
planned  had  come  to  pass.  It  was  Destiny. 
Destiny  was  mightier  than  his  will; 
beaten,  he  could  no  more  than  surrender. 

His  apathy  was  not  stirred  when  he 
knew  that  Dorothy  was  to  remain  at  the 
fort  until  an  eastbound  train  would  pass, 
when  she  would  return  homeward.  For- 
rester told  him  this,  and  that  he,  too, 
meant  to  go. 

"  This  is  n't  my  country,  Mark,"  he 
said.     "  I  don't  belong  here.     If  there  's 


238  The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

a  place  for  me  anywhere,  it  is  n't  here." 
A  weight  of  sadness  was  upon  him.  "  I 
don't  know,"  he  sighed.  "  I  've  got  no 
right;  but  maybe  I  can  help  her,  some- 
how. I  'm  going,  anyway.  I  '11  wait 
for  you  at  Council  Bluffs,  till  you  come 
back.  Then  we  '11  talk  about  things.  I 
can't  talk  now." 

In  the  grey  of  the  earty  morning  the 
train  got  under  way,  creeping  slov/ly  out 
of  the  valley  to  the  ridge  above  the  river. 
Not  until  the  last  moment  did  JNIark  get 
a  good-bye  glimi)se  of  Dorothj\  Then 
she  and  Mrs.  Cannon  came  together  from 
the  fort  gate.  Looking  back  from  his 
place  beside  his  oxen,  Mark  saw  Dorothy 
standing  by  while  the  older  woman  got 
to  her  seat  and  turned  her  waggon  into 
the  line;  then,  with  slow  step,  she  re- 
turned to  the  shelter  of  the  fort  walls. 
When  she  was  gone,  Mark  breathed  a 
long,  deep  sigh  and  set  his  face  resolutely 
westward. 


VIII 

IN  THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  ROCK 

OIX  months  were  gone,  and  the  train 
^  was  faring  eastward,  descending  the 
long  slope  from  the  high  plains  into  the 
rolling  prairie  of  the  valley  of  the  Mis- 
souri. Within  that  brief  span  a  lifetime 
had  been  crowded — a  lifetime  of  hardship 
and  peril,  a  lifetime  of  courage  and  en- 
durance, a  lifetime  of  purpose  and  accom- 
plishment. Winter  had  shut  them  in  at 
Green  River,  in  the  heart  of  the  wilder- 
ness, while  the  journey's  end  was  near  in 
miles  but  impossibly  remote  through  the 
snow-choked  canons  of  the  mountains. 
There,  worn  with  exposure  and  dis- 
heartened by  the  dull  delay,  they  had 
grimly  weathered  it  through,  until  inac- 
tion— bane  of  the  man  with  the  temper  of 
the  fighter — became  unbearable.  Long 
before  the  breaking  of  spring  they  had 
239 


240  The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

fought  their  way  out,  with  days  of  unre- 
mitting toil,  to  the  valley  of  the  Great 
Salt  Lake,  where  lay  the  market  for  the 
waggons'  cargoes;  turning  then  wearily 
upon  the  homeward  way. 

Now,  when  the  end  was  ahnost  in  sight, 
there  rested  upon  the  men  none  of  the 
outward  ecstasy  of  victory.  They  were 
too  far  spent  for  that.  Two  thousand 
miles  afoot  over  plain  and  mountain  had 
wrought  the  superb  young  bodies  into 
wiry,  lean  thews  and  tough  sinews,  fit  for 
endurance  but  not  for  ecstasy.  Ragged 
they  were,  gaunt,  dust-laden,  brown  as 
Indians.  New  faces  were  in  the  line, 
here  and  there,  replacing  the  dead. 

It  was  mid- April  and  over  the  breadth 
of  the  land  was  the  first,  faint  flush  and 
glamour  of  reawakening  life — eternal  ful- 
filment of  the  eternal  promise.  On  the 
hill-breasts  and  in  the  sheltered  hollows, 
where  the  mellow  sunlight  fell  aslant,  a 
light  mist  of  green  lay  over  the  dead 
brown;  the  warm  air  was  fragrant  as  the 
breath  of  a  girl;  the  sky  as  limpid  and 


In  the  Shadow  of  the  Rock    241 

brilliant  as  a  jewel.  The  earliest  of  the 
migrant  birds  were  already  beginning 
their  mating-songs.  All  the  earth  was 
quickening  with  the  mighty  mystery  and 
miracle  of  resurrection. 

But  this  wine  of  new  life  was  slow  to 
stir  the  hearts  of  the  men  jaded  and 
heavy  with  exhaustion.  It  was  rest  more 
than  any  rekindling,  reviving  magic,  that 
they  craved — rest  and  respite. 

To  Mark,  as  he  plodded  dully  onward 
day  by  day  beside  his  oxen,  it  seemed  that 
his  longing  for  rest  could  never  again  be 
wholl}^  satisfied.  What  had  passed,  in 
the  long  months,  lay  upon  his  body  and 
mind  with  a  weight  that  would  not  be 
shaken  off.  The  elastic  grace  of  uncon- 
quered  youth  was  gone  from  his  step; 
his  eyes  were  sunken,  their  eager  fire 
abated  to  a  feverish,  dull  glow;  lines 
were  furrowed  deep  upon  his  tanned  face, 
that  was  shrunken  and  hollow,  as  though 
with  hunger;  his  black  hair  hung  in  a 
thick  mat,  almost  to  his  shoulders,  its 
lustre  dulled  by  sun  and  weather.     His 

16 


242  The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

strength  v/as  not  lost  or  lessened,  but  it 
had  become  as  the  strength  of  seasoned 
oak  and  tempered  steel,  not  that  of  living 
flesh  and  bone.  Even  the  buoyant  qual- 
ity of  his  will  was  subdued,  toned  down 
to  mere  power  of  endurance  instead  of 
that  lust  for  conquest  he  had  cherished 
when  first  his  feet  were  set  upon  the  new 
soil.  For  he  had  tasted  of  conquest  and 
had  found  it  of  a  strange  savour. 

One  night,  when  the  men  were 
stretched  in  their  blankets  and  quiet  had 
fallen  upon  the  camp,  he  sat  beside  the 
mess  fire,  watching  the  ash  gather  over 
the  embers,  that  seemed  to  be  blinking 
drowsily  and  falling  asleep,  drawing  their 
night's  coverlet  about  them.  He  was 
very  tired,  but  wanted  the  will  to  go  to 
his  bed.  He  was  not  trying  to  think;  it 
was  no  more  than  the  listless  revery  of 
utter  weariness  that  held  him. 

The  train  had  long  since  left  the  coun- 
try of  the  hostile  Sioux,  and  the  tension 
of  caution  was  relaxed,  mth  only  a  man 
or   two   keeping   sleepy   watch   over   the 


In  the  Shadow  of  the  Rock    243 

grazing  oxen.  Save  for  these,  Mark 
thought  himself  the  only  one  awake  about 
the  camp;  but  presently  Cannon  came  to 
the  fireside,  half  clothed,  with  a  blanket 
over  his  broad  shoulders.  Despite  his 
indomitable  spirit,  he  had  suffered  with 
the  rest;  the  months  had  been  years  as  in 
their  effect  upon  him;  he  was  shaggy, 
hollow-eyed,  worn.  But  as  he  sat  down 
at  Mark's  side,  his  bearded  lips  were  smil- 
ing with  the  humour  that  nothing  had 
been  able  to  daunt. 

"Uneasy?"  he  asked.  "So  am  I. 
I  've  been  tossin'  for  an  hour.  I  'm  goin' 
to  set  here  till  I  fall  over ;  then  mebbe  I  '11 
sleep." 

He  stretched  his  huge  limbs,  trying  to 
make  himself  comfortable,  settling  for  a 
time  into  moody  silence. 

"  Gettin'  close,  boy,"  he  said  after  a 
while.  "  It  '11  seem  good,  won't  it? — 
mighty  good!  Say,  I've  been  thinkin': 
Are  you  goin'  to  try  it  again? " 

"Are  you?"  Mark  returned. 

"  I    dunno.     That 's    what    I  've   been 


244  The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

thinkin'  about.  The  widder,  she  says 
we  ain't ;  but  I  dunno.  It 's  been  a  great 
time.  We  've  made  it  win,  Mark ;  an' 
winnin'  is  a  bait  I  can't  help  bitin'  on, 
somehow.  Frick's  been  figurin'  some. 
He  was  telhn'  me  to-night  that  if  we  have 
any  kind  of  luck  with  them  furs  bought 
at  Green  River  an'  Laramie,  we  '11  clear 
up  better  than  four  to  one  on  what  we  put 
into  it.  That  ain't  so  bad,  for  a  first  try, 
without  no  experience  nor  nothin'." 

"  Yes,"  Mark  said,  listlessly,  "  we  've 
won.     But  we  've  paid  the  price." 

"Ah,  by  God,  that's  so!"  Cannon 
cried,  with  profound  feeling.  "A  terri- 
ble price.  I  can't  bear  to  think  about  it. 
Them  poor  boys!  An'  life  was  so  good 
— as  good  as  it  is  to  us.  It  seems  like 
blood  money,  when  you  think  about  it 
that  way.  Them  the  Sioux  got,  an'  one 
at  Green  River,  an'  the  one  that  died  at 
Salt  Lake — By  the  Lord,  Death  has  too 
big  a  rake-off  I  " 

Another  silence  fell  between  them, 
which  Cannon  was  the  first  to  break. 


In  the  Shadow  of  the  Rock    245 

"But  that  ain't  all,  Mark.  There's 
another  thing  to  think  about.  Some- 
body's got  to  do  these  jobs,  an'  take  all 
these  chances.  The  country  ain't  goin' 
to  be  made  by  them  that  sets  down  an' 
waits  till  things  get  easier.  Somebody's 
got  to  be  willin'  to  do  these  first  things. 
It 's  goin'  to  cost  lives,  spite  of  all  we  can 
do — as  many  lives  as  a  war.  Some- 
bodj^  's  got  to  give  'em.  O  God !  "  He 
threw  himself  down  upon  the  earth,  fling- 
ing his  mighty  arms  wide,  as  if  baffled 
and  helpless  in  the  face  of  this  master- 
tragedy  whose  author  was  Destiny.  "  I 
dunno,"  he  said  again.  "  I  can't  see 
through  it.  I  '11  have  to  think  about  it, 
good  and  hard.  One  way,  I  'd  a  damned 
sight  rather  not.  But  another  way, 
somehow  it  kind  o'  seems  to  call  me." 

He  lay  for  a  long  time  without  mov- 
ing, his  big  breast  heaving  now  and  again 
with  a  ragged  sigh,  as  his  thoughts 
groped  for  an  answer  to  the  world-old 
riddle.  "Ain't  it  funny?"  he  said,  by 
and  by.     "  Men  are  curious  critters.     A 


246  The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

man  says  to  himself,  '  I  'm  goin'  to  do 
this  or  that,  an'  it 's  comin'  out  this  way 
or  that  M'SLj.'  But  it  don't — not  once  in 
a  hundred  miUion  times,  if  it 's  anything 
real  big  an'  worth  while.  What  I  don't 
understand  is  why  we  don't  all  get  plum 
discouraged  an'  quit.  What 's  the  rea- 
son? Seems  like  mebbe  the  Almighty's 
pullin'  strings  on  us,  don't  it,  after  all?  " 
Lying  as  he  was,  he  fell  asleep  pres- 
ently, leaving  INIark  to  himself.  The 
vast,  deep  hollow  of  the  night  gave  him 
a  sense  of  complete  isolation  and  loneli- 
ness. There  were  no  near  and  familiar 
sounds  that  came  to  his  ears,  but  only  a 
far,  faint  murmur,  the  throbbing  of  the 
earth's  wondrous  life-currents  sweeping 
their  appointed  way — sound  never  stilled 
since  hfe  began.  It  was  of  a  part  with 
Cannon's  cry  of  the  heart  in  its  fathom- 
less mystery;  as  he  heard,  his  soul  w^as 
oppressed  by  fear  and  by  a  great  melan- 
choly. Was  it  never  to  be  given  to  him, 
he  wondered,  to  know  anything,  even  the 
least   part,   of  life's  real   meaning?     As 


In  the  Shadow  of  the  Rock    247 

never  before,  he  felt  that  he  stood  facing 
a  dead  wall,  shutting  the  future  away  from 
his  sight  completely.  Was  the  fair  faith 
of  youth  to  turn  out,  after  all,  no  more 
than  an  ironical  illusion,  a  cruel  jest? 
"  A  man  deserves  what  his  strength  can 
win  for  him,"  he  had  said  to  Forrester 
once,  believing  it  implicitly;  but  now 
the  words  came  back  to  him  like  a  mock- 
ing echo  empty  and  false;  and  close  upon 
this  he  heard  again  Cannon's  saying: 
"  A  man  says  to  himself,  '  I  'm  goin'  to 
do  this  or  that,  an'  it 's  goin'  to  turn  out 
this  way  or  that  way.'  But  it  don't." 
In  his  moody  dejection,  and  in  the  light 
of  what  had  befallen,  he  saw  himself  as 
no  more  than  a  puppet,  doing  a  foolish 
dance  for  the  idle  amusement  of  the 
Fates. 

As  always  of  late,  when  he  would  sit 
brooding  thus,  by  and  by  the  face  of 
Dorothy  took  form  before  him,  ethereal, 
exquisite,  the  misty  eyes  gazing  fixedly 
into  his  with  a  look  that  was  inscrutable 
— sad,  accusing,  but  full  of  a  shadowy, 


248  The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

vague  tenderness.  A  spasm  of  pain  con- 
tracted his  heart.  Could  it  be  true  that 
she  had  passed  out  of  his  hfe?  Would 
he  never  again  set  eyes  upon  her  loveli- 
ness? Through  all  the  dreary  months, 
the  memory  of  their  parting,  when  her 
need  was  so  great  and  his  brutal  passion 
so  implacable,  had  recurred  to  him  again 
and  again;  as  he  thought  of  it  now,  it 
filled  him  with  the  consciousness  of  a  final 
and  irreparable  loss.  His  victory  in  the 
wilderness — the  first  real  victory  of  his 
life  and  the  beginning  of  his  fortune — 
had  become  meaningless  and  vacant, 
since  love  was  gone.  His  zest  was  dead. 
Though  he  hardily  tried  to  face  his  future 
and  to  plan  a  use  for  himself,  the  effort 
was  a  wretched  failure. 

Midnight  came,  bringing  the  brief  stir 
of  changing  watch,  and  the  fire  was  al- 
most dead;  but  still  he  sat  dreaming  his 
ineffectual  dreams,  trying,  with  his  ut- 
most strength,  to  bring  some  clear  shape 
out  of  the  haunted  shadows  that  shut  him 
in.     But  at  the  last  he  realised  notliing 


In  the  Shadow  of  the  Rock    249 

but  despair.  He  had  won  his  victory,  he 
had  earned  victory's  reward;  but  as  he 
dwelt  upon  it  he  saw  that  it  was  pitifully 
cheap  and  tawdrj^  without  love  to  glorify 
it.  He  lay  down  upon  the  ground,  bury- 
ing his  head  upon  his  arms. 

"I  loved  her!"  he  breathed.  "Oh,  I 
loved  her  so!"  Then,  in  helpless  sur- 
render: "God  help  me!  I  want  her. 
She  belongs  to  me." 

Another  week,  and  one  warm,  radiant 
noonday,  as  the  train  crept  at  its  snail's 
pace  to  the  crest  of  one  of  the  billowy  hills, 
Cannon,  walking  by  the  lead  waggon, 
flung  his  arms  above  his  head,  with  a 
deep-thi'oated  cry,  leaping  about  in  a 
clumsy  dance  of  joy. 

"Glory,  glory,  glory  hallelujah!"  he 
shouted.  "  Here  she  is!  Omaha,  Omaha!  " 

The  train  halted,  and  the  men  ran  for- 
ward from  their  places  in  the  line,  gath- 
ering about  the  capering  giant,  laughing, 
cheering,  happy,  their  weary  trials  for- 
gotten as  they  looked  down  upon  the 
scattered  cluster  of  cabins  at  the  bottom 


250  The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

of  the  hill-slope.  Peac^  lay  over  the  wide 
valley,  that  was  carj)eted  and  festooned 
with  the  green  of  the  bourgeoning  spring, 
in  infinite  variety  of  hues  and  shadings; 
from  rim  to  rim  of  the  enclosing  hills  it 
was  filled,  flooded,  with  the  liquid  gold  of 
the  sunlight;  the  near  woods  resounded 
with  a  riot  of  bird-melodies;  the  thick 
tangles  of  undergrowths  along  the  sides 
of  the  trail  were  jewelled  with  wild  blos- 
soms, peeping  shyly  out;  the  balmy  air 
was  rich  with  the  incense  of  the  mellow 
earth. 

"  God's  country ! "  Cannon  said,  his 
deep  voice  resonant.     "Oh,  it's  good!" 

Slowly  they  descended  the  hill  and  drew 
into  the  village,  where  the  townsfolk  were 
assembled  in  the  streets  to  give  them  wel- 
come and  to  get  the  news  of  the  mnter 
from  the  western  trail.  Frick's  careworn 
face  Avas  beaming,  as  he  felt  the  lifting  of 
his  load. 

"  We  '11  stay  on  this  side  to-night, 
boys,"  he  said.  "  There  's  no  hurry,  we 
can   go   to   the   Bluffs    in   the   morning. 


In  the  Shadow  of  the  Rock    251 

You  care  for  your  animals,  and  then  keep 
as  sober  as  you  can." 

When  the  needful  tasks  were  done, 
Mark  sought  Frick. 

"  I  'm  dead  tired,"  he  said.  "  I  'm  go- 
ing to  wait  here,  for  a  day  or  so,  till  I  can 
have  some  sleep.  One  of  the  boys  will 
take  my  waggon  across.  I  '11  see  you, 
over  there,  before  the  week  's  out." 

"All  right,"  Frick  nodded.  "  You  've 
earned  it.  It 's  been  a  hard  trip.  Take 
your  time.  I  '11  try  and  have  the  business 
figured  out,  by  the  time  you  come,  so  we 
can  make  our  settlement  and  talk  things 
over." 

Released,  Mark  went  at  once  to  the 
cabin  he  had  built,  in  the  last  summer,  on 
his  claim.  There  was  an  air  of  abandon- 
ment about  the  place.  The  door  had 
blown  open,  letting  the  winter's  snow 
drift  in.  The  spring  warmth  seemed  not 
to  have  found  its  way  here,  for  the  snow 
lay  heaped  upon  the  floor,  and  the  stone 
fireplace  was  choked  with  it,  giving  to 
the  room  an  oppressive  chill.     His  tools 


252  The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

were  in  a  corner,  as  he  had  left  them.  He 
shovelled  the  snow  from  the  hearth  and 
kindled  a  roaring  fire  of  bark  and  dead- 
falls, then  set  to  work  to  clear  the  drifts 
from  the  door.  Evening  was  upon  him 
when  his  labour  was  done  and  the  room 
made  tidy.  A  wolfish  hunger  possessed 
him.  Returning  to  the  town,  he  brought 
coifee,  bread,  and  bacon,  cooked  his  sup- 
per over  the  coals  and  ate  his  fill,  taking 
a  long  time  to  it.  When  he  had  finished, 
he  flung  off  his  boots,  ^vi^apped  a  blanket 
about  him  and  lay  down  upon  the  warm 
hearth-stones,  where  he  fell  at  once  into 
deep,  dreamless  sleep,  waking  only  when 
the  morning  sun  was  high.  The  rivulet 
running  near  his  cabin  was  still  banked 
with  snow  in  the  sheltered  hollow  where 
the  timber  stood  thick,  and  the  water  was 
icy-cold.  Stripping  to  the  skin,  he 
splashed  about  in  the  stream  until  the 
shock  of  its  bitter  cold  brought  reaction, 
making  his  body  glow.  Plunging  into 
a  snow-bank,  he  rolled  like  a  colt,  coming 
out  tingling  to  his  finger-tips.  He  break- 


In  the  Shadow  of  the  Rock    253 

fasted  as  he  |?ad  supped,  ravenously; 
stretching  out  again  at  once  to  sleep. 

All  through  the  day  he  lay,  drowsing 
and  waking,  drowsing  and  waking,  turn- 
ing lazily  in  his  blanket,  rising  only  when 
his  fire  fell  low  or  when  returning  hunger 
prompted  him  with  imperative  call — full 
of  a  placid,  animal  content,  his  mind  un- 
disturbed, basking  in  the  warmth  of  life 
and  strength  that  flowed  into  his  every 
fibre. 

After  his  second  breakfast,  he  went 
out  upon  the  hills  and  through  the  woods, 
walking  without  aim  or  purpose  but  to 
feel  the  renewed  vigour  of  his  body,  and 
to  tire  himself  out,  that  he  might  enjoy 
again  the  pleasure  of  rest.  For  hours 
he  kept  to  his  sturdy  exercise,  turning 
homeward  only  when  the  dusk  began  to 
fill  the  deep  hollows,  and  his  muscles 
were  cloyed  with  a  delicious  weariness. 

From  a  distance,  he  saw  that  his  cabin 
door  stood  open,  and  that  the  room  was 
bright  with  firelight,  shining  in  a  broad 
path  over  the  threshold  and  across  the 


254  The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

darkened  earth.  Forrester  was  there, 
awaiting  Ms  coming,  sitting  before  the 
blaze  crossed-legged  upon  the  floor.  In 
his  deep  preoccupation  he  did  not  hear 
the  approaching  footsteps  until  Mark 
stood  in  the  doorway;  then  he  started  to 
his  feet,  turning  with  outstretched  hands. 

"Mark,  Mark!"  he  cried.  For  a  lit- 
tle time  he  stood  thus,  his  glance  eagerly- 
searching  the  man's  face.  "  For  Christ's 
sake,  Mark !  "  he  said,  as  if  in  supplication. 

All  hardness  toward  the  boy  passed 
from  Mark's  heart.  He  put  his  strong 
arms  about  the  young  shoulders  with  the 
affection  of  a  brother,  and  his  deep  laugh 
was  like  a  caress.  "  It 's  all  right.  Jack," 
he  said  gently.  "  It 's  got  to  be  all  right. 
We  can't  afford  to  have  it  any  other  way. 
Lord,  but  I  'm  glad  to  see  j^ou!  " 

They  sat  together  beside  the  fire,  tak- 
ing account  of  what  the  months  had 
wrought.  They  had  brought  change  to 
Forrester,  no  less  than  to  ]Mark;  he  was 
thin  and  worn;  his  happy-go-lucky  boy- 
ishness was  gone,   and  he  seemed  older 


In  the  Shadow  of  the  Rock    255 

by  five  years  than  at  the  time  of  their 
parting,  with  a  quiet,  contained  dignity 
and  power  of  restraint  that  bespoke  a 
ripened  manhood.  In  the  first  moments 
of  their  meeting  Mark  saw  the  difference, 
wondering  at  its  meaning. 

But  he  asked  no  intimate  questions; 
understanding  would  come  soon  enough. 
For  an  hour  they  sat,  while  he  told  of 
what  had  befallen  on  the  trail  and  of  the 
outcome  of  the  enterprise.  Forrester 
spoke  but  httle;  sometimes  it  was  plain 
that  he  was  not  attending  to  what  Mark 
said,  while  his  thoughts  were  fixed  upon 
something,  invisible  but  to  his  brooding 
eyes,  deep  in  the  glowing  heart  of  the 
coals. 

By  and  by  Mark  arose.  "Supper!" 
he  said  briskly.  "  I  've  been  forgetting. 
I  'm  near  starving.  Now  you  've  got  to 
do  the  talking,  and  let  me  work.  What 's 
been  happening  here?  I  haven't  heard 
a  word  yet." 

Forrester  drew  back  into  the  shadow 
at    the    side    of    the    fireplace,    leaning 


256  The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

against  the  chimneystones.  One  thought 
had  been  uppermost  in  the  mind  of  each, 
but  both  had  avoided  it  in  speech.  Now 
Forrester  spoke  as  though  with  a  cour- 
ageous effort. 

"  She  's  here,  Mark,"  he  said  quietly. 
"  At  the  Bluffs,  I  mean.  She 's  been 
there  ever  since  we  came  back." 

Mark  was  bending  over  the  fire,  rak- 
ing a  bed  of  coals  together.  At  the  calm 
words  he  stood  suddenly  erect,  feeling 
his  every  muscle  drawing  tense. 

"Here!"  he  echoed.  "She's  here? 
Why,  what " 

"  She  's  teaching  school,  over  yonder," 
Forrester  said,  with  the  same  quiet. 
"  She  began  it  a  little  while  after  we  got 
here.  She  meant  to  go  back  to  her  home, 
but  she  changed  her  mind  and  staid.  I  've 
been  here  too,  all  the  time.  She  wanted 
the  school,  and  I  got  it  for  her.  I  've 
done  all  I  could,  JNIark." 

"And  what— what  else?     Tell  me!" 

Forrester  shook  his  head.  "  That 's 
all.      There 's    nothing   more   than   that. 


In  the  Shadow  of  the  Rock    257 

that  I  know.  You  '11  have  to  find  out  the 
rest  for  yourself." 

A  silence  fell  between  them,  while 
ISIark  went  about  his  work  mechanicallj^ 
blundering,  getting  nothing  done.  His 
coffee  boiled  over  on  the  fire;  his  bacon 
was  burned  to  black  chips ;  but  he  did  not 
heed.  After  a  time  Forrester  came  to 
his  side,  laying  his  hands  lightly  upon  the 
strong  shoulders,  looking  fixedly  into  the 
perplexed  ej^es. 

"  Oh,  JNIark,  ^lark,  j^ou  've  got  to  be 
good  to  her.  Do  you  understand?  No, 
I  don't  believe  you  do;  but  you  must. 
Whatever  grace  of  soul  you  've  got  you 
must  show  to  her.  You  don't  know  what 
she  is.  Why,  JNIark,  if  you  knew — oh, 
what 's  the  use!  "  He  broke  off  ^vith  an 
abrupt  gesture,  turning  away  and  begin- 
ning to  pace  back  and  forth  across  the 
dim-lit  room,  back  and  forth,  back  and 
forth,  his  head  bent,  his  fine  face  working 
with  the  stress  of  liis  nervous  excitement, 
Mark  following  him  with  intent,  troubled 
gaze. 


258  The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

"But,  Jack — "  he  began;  but  Forres- 
ter stopped  him  with  uphfted  hand. 

"Don't!"  he  said.  "I  know  what 
you  're  thinking.  I  've  been  her  friend, 
as  good  a  friend  as  I  knew  how  to  be; 
that 's  all.  You  can  put  that  out  of  your 
mind.  If  I  had  been  fit — "  He  walked 
to  the  open  doorway  and  stood  for  a  mo- 
ment looking  out  into  the  night,  waiting 
for  control.  When  he  turned  to  face 
Mark  again,  his  lips  were  smiling,  his  eyes 
alight,  as  though  his  depth  of  feeling  had 
been  but  a  passing  humour.  "  If  the 
child  is  really  father  to  the  man,"  he 
laughed,  "  then  my  young  father  and  I 
have  an  account  to  settle,  for  the  things 
I  'm  incapable  of.  But  friendship  is  n't 
one  of  them,  Mark,  I  've  been  her  friend, 
and  now  I  'm  trying  to  be  yours.  You  '11 
have  that  to  thank  me  for  after  a  while. 
Go  ahead  with  your  supper;  I  want  it, 
bad." 

When  the  next  dawn  came,  a  spring 
rain  was  falling,  warm  and  soft,  cleans- 
ing and  vitalising,  bringing  a  sense  of 


In  the  Shadow  of  the  Rock   259 

Nature's  deathless  calm.  Toward  noon 
the  clouds  passed  and  the  sun  shone  with 
dazzling  brilHance;  the  perfumed  breath 
of  the  woods  and  the  earth  was  full  of  a 
sensuous  languor.  Again  Mark  bathed 
in  the  rivulet,  ate  his  dinner  with  un- 
abated appetite,  and  set  off  for  the  ferry- 
landing.  He  was  rested  and  refreshed. 
He  must  make  his  settlement  with  Frick 
and  take  a  square  look  at  his  future,  he 
told  himself.  Prolonged  idleness  was  not 
his  part. 

He  foimd  Frick  elated  over  his  careful 
tables  of  figures,  that  spelled  success. 

"  Thirty-seven  hundred  and  eight j^  dol- 
lars, Bailey,"  he  said  with  quiet  satisfac- 
tion. "  Here  's  j^our  statement.  Check 
it  off,  and  see  if  it 's  right." 

A  renev/ed  sense  of  master}^  came  to 
Mark,  as  he  tucked  his  money  securely 
into  his  belt. 

"And  now^  what 's  the  ]3lan?  "  he  asked. 

"  We  '11  have  to  wait  a  few  days,"  Frick 
said,  "  until  some  new  stuff  comes  up  the 
river.     Supplies  are  short  here,  after  the 


26o  The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

winter.  We  'U  know  pretty  soon.  It 's 
just  as  well.  The  boys  will  want  to  feel 
their  freedom  a  bit.  I  'm  going  back  and 
I  want  to  keep  the  old  crowd  together,  as 
much  as  I  can.  Jack  will  keep  his  money 
in  the  game,  he  says,  and  I  have  hopes  of 
Joe,  though  he  's  a  little  doubtful  on  his 
wife's  account.  We'll  see.  Of  course 
you  '11  go?  " 

"  I  don't  see  anything  else.  I  'm  sat- 
isfied, plenty,  with  the  way  it 's  turned 
out.  Yes,  I  guess  you  can  count  on  me 
too." 

When  they  had  separated,  Mark  re- 
turned to  the  ferry-landing,  where  the 
boat  was  waiting;  but  there  he  paused, 
loitering  about,  letting  the  boat  go  with- 
out him;  then  another  and  another.  A 
thought  accused  him:  "  You  're  a  coward. 
You  're  afraid  to  face  her."  He  was  not 
used  to  fear.  It  was  this  realisation, 
more  than  desire,  that  held  him,  irreso- 
lute. By  and  by  he  left  the  river  and 
walked  idly  about  the  town,  here  and 
there,  neither  knowing  nor  caring  where 


In  the  Shadow  of  the  Rock    261 

he  went.  His  eyes  saw  nothing  of  what 
went  on  around  him;  his  companions  of 
the  train  were  minghng  A\'ith  the  towns- 
folk, in  Hght-hearted  good-fellowship, 
and  now  and  again  one  of  them  hailed 
him,  challenging  him  to  join  in  the  sport, 
but  he  shook  his  head,  onlj-^  half  heeding, 
and  kept  on  his  way.  The  afternoon  was 
far  spent  when  his  wandering  ceased 
and  he  shook  himself  out  of  his  preoccu- 
pation, drawing  his  stooped  shoulders 
firmly  erect. 

"  I  've  got  to  see  her,"  he  said. 
"  There  's  no  other  way.  It 's  a  jump  in 
the  dark,  but  I  've  got  to  take  it." 

He  inquired  his  way  to  the  schoolhouse 
— a  rough  log  building,  that  stood  in  a 
waste  spot  at  the  edge  of  the  town, 
amongst  scrub  oaks,  the  dooryard 
trampled  bare  by  the  feet  of  the  children. 
School  was  just  dismissed  as  he  came 
within  sight  of  the  place,  and  the  children 
were  going  their  ways  in  noisy,  lively 
gi'oups,  their  sweet  young  voices  swelling 
in  a  gay  chorus,  their  blithe  young  feet 


262  The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

dancing  with  the  joj^  of  release  into  the 
spring  sunshine  and  warmth.  But  jNlark 
gave  to  them  only  a  passing  glance,  un- 
seeing, impatient;  for  beside  the  open 
door,  in  exquisite  relief  against  the  rude 
background,  stood  a  slender,  black- 
gowned  figure,  crowned  with  the  glory 
of  a  mass  of  fair  hair,  glowing,  instinct 
with  life  in  the  golden  sunlight.  He 
caught  his  breath  sharply,  and  his  strong 
heart  leaped  and  pounded,  w^hile  his  love 
surged  back  upon  him,  flooding  his  soul. 
Of  no  avail  his  stubborn  struggle.  In 
that  moment  he  knew  that  he  was  con- 
quered, helpless. 

He  drew  back  amongst  the  trees,  wait- 
ing until  the  children  had  gone  lightly 
on  their  way  homeward;  then,  with  halt- 
ing steps,  he  stole  quietly  to  the  open 
doorway,  quaking  with  the  fear  that  was 
upon  him. 

Dorothy  sat  at  her  desk,  at  the  far  end 
of  the  room,  bending  busily  over  the  day's 
last  tasks,  and  all  unconscious.  Now  and 
again,   as  she  turned  the  leaves  of  her 


In  the  Shadow  of  the  Rock    263 

book,  a  familiar  gesture  of  her  small 
hand  or  a  familiar  poise  of  her  small  head 
thrilled  him  like  a  stab  of  delicious  pain. 
She  was  so  beautiful,  so  brave,  with  an 
air  of  such  heavenly  serenity!  For  a 
long  time  he  stood,  hardly  breathing,  liis 
every  fibre  quick  with  yearning  tender- 
ness. Then,  because  he  could  not  help 
himself,  he  stepped  across  the  threshold, 
standing  with  bared  head. 

"  Dorothy,  Dorothy !  "  he  cried. 

With  a  startled,  inarticulate  cry  she 
half  arose  from  her  chair,  then  sank  back 
again  white  as  death,  her  hands  pressed 
to  her  breast,  her  lips  parted,  waiting 
while  he  came  slowly  up  the  aisle  and 
stood  before  her,  his  passionate,  hot  eyes 
holding  hers,  that  were  full  of  wonder  and 
fright. 

"  I  have  come,"  he  said  simply.  She 
did  not  answer  or  move ;  she  seemed  hardly 
to  live,  save  in  the  dark  depths  of  her  eyes. 
Slowly  he  drew  nearer,  standing  at  her 
side,  towering  above  her. 

"  I   have   come,"   he   said   again.     "  I 


264  The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

had  to  come.  I  fought  against  it,  but  it 
was  n't  any  use.     I  had  to  come." 

Still  she  did  not  answer,  sitting  like 
one  dazed,  powerless. 

"Dorothy!"  His  strong,  warm  fin- 
gers closed  about  her  cold  hand  with  a 
clinging  pressure.  At  the  touch,  she 
seemed  to  start  again  to  life,  a  deep  flush 
mounting,  overspreading  cheeks  and  neck 
and  forehead. 

"  Oh!  "  she  breathed,  with  a  long  sigh. 
Her  glance  fell  from  his,  and  she  released 
her  hand  from  his  clasp.  But  her  agita- 
tion was  not  passed.  She  picked  up  her 
book  from  the  desk,  turning  the  leaves 
idly,  with  trembling  fingers;  then  let  it 
fall  to  the  floor  and  with  a  helpless  cry 
hid  her  face  upon  her  arms,  shaken  by  a 
storm  of  sobs. 

He  laid  his  hand  upon  her  bent  head, 
stroking  her  soft  hair,  love  and  tender- 
ness welling  within  him.  "God!"  he 
cried,  and  sank  to  his  knees  at  her  side, 
putting  his  great  arms  about  her,  dramng 
her  to  him  as  though  she  had  been   a 


In  the  Shadow  of  the  Rock   265 

troubled  child,  compelling  her  head  to 
rest  against  his  broad  shoulder.  "  There!  " 
he  said,  his  voice  choking.  "  There 's 
where  you  belong,  beloved."  As  though 
she  wanted  the  will  to  move,  she  lay  quite 
still  until  the  tumult  of  her  tears  was 
quieted. 

"  I  thought  I  had  lost  you,"  he  whis- 
pered then.  "  I  thought  you  would  be 
gone.  I  was  afraid  I  would  never  find 
you  again." 

She  drew  away  from  him  gently,  dry- 
ing her  tears.  "  I  had  no  place  to  go," 
she  said,  with  a  child's  utter  simplicity. 
"  My  brother  was  all  I  had.  I  could  n't 
go  back  where  we  had  lived.  Besides,  I 
had  to  stay  here  until " 

He  knew  what  she  would  say. 
"Please,  Dorothy,  not  that!"  he  said. 
"  Listen.  You  are  never  to  speak  of 
that  wretched  thing  again.  Never  again. 
That  is  dead  and  buried  with  him,  and  you 
must  let  it  lie.  It  has  made  you  suffer 
too  much  already — all  these  months  of 
dreadful  loneliness.     Promise  me  that." 


266  The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

She  bent  her  head  in  silence.  "  I  am 
glad,"  he  said.  For  a  little  time  he 
waited,  his  hungry  eyes  intent  upon  her. 

"  You  have  been  very  lonely,  have  n't 
you? "  he  asked. 

"  Yes,"  she  sighed,  mth  the  same  simple 
honesty. 

"Look  at  me,  Dorothy!" 

Slowly,  very  slowly,  she  raised  her 
bent  head,  turning  toward  him,  and  their 
eyes  met. 

"I  love  you!"  he  cried.  "You  can 
tell  it 's  true.  I  shall  love  you  until  I 
die,  and  after  that,  if  a  man  can  love  then. 
I  love  you.  You  need  me,  as  much  as  I 
need  you,  because  I  am  strong.  I  want 
my  strength  to  be  about  you,  because  you 
need  it,  and  because  I  love  you.  '  A 
weary  land  ' : — Do  you  remember  when 
you  said  that  to  me?  The  first  day  we 
met?  And  ever  since  then  I  have  been 
dreaming  that  some  day  I  should  be  your 
rock,  with  my  love  to  make  a  shelter  for 
you.  Is  it  coming  true?  Don't  fight 
against  it — don't!       Here!"      Kneeling 


In  the  Shadow  of  the  Rock    267 

as  he  was,  he  opened  his  arms  to  her. 
"Dorothy,  if  you  love  me,  come!  No! 
Look  at  me!  I  love  you!  I  know  that 
you  love  me.     Come !  " 

With  a  great  cry  she  gave  herself  to 
him,  letting  his  arms  enfold  her. 

"Beloved,  beloved!"  he  whispered  in 
ecstasy.  "Mine,  mine!  Oh,  I  thank 
God." 

Again,  with  the  wondrous  glory  of  the 
spring  about  him,  and  with  the  ineffable 
splendour  of  love  and  life  flooding  his 
soul,  Mark  worked  upon  his  claim,  mak- 
ing over  his  rude  cabin  into  a  home. 
Home!  The  word  beat  in  his  mind  like 
a  pulse.  Every  stroke  of  his  axe  thrilled 
him;  every  breath  he  drew  warmed  and 
comforted  him  like  wine.  Within  his 
heart,  as  in  the  freshening  world  without, 
a  very  miracle  was  being  wrought,  a  mir- 
acle of  transfiguration.  No  more  for  him 
any  doubt  of  life  or  of  life's  utility — 
doubt  that  so  short  a  time  ago  had  turned 
his  passions  to  discord,  primal  and  brutal. 


268  The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

Love;  wife;  home: — the  simple  words  be- 
came for  him  the  whole  gamut  of  har- 
mony, the  sweet,  inviolate  harmony  of  the 
creation.  He  laughed,  with  a  sort  of 
shame,  at  the  memory  of  what  had  been 
his  faith  so  short  a  time  ago — that  con- 
quest of  this  wide,  new  land  was  to  be 
made  by  the  sheer,  gross  strength  of  will 
and  body,  thi'ough  the  lust  of  the  fighter. 
Such  a  poor,  blind  faith!  He  knew  bet- 
ter now.  Blood  must  be  shed,  no  doubt, 
to  appease  the  savage  gods  of  the  mlder- 
ness;  but  the  supreme  and  ultimate  vic- 
tory would  descend,  not  upon  the  ghastly 
battlefield,  but  upon  the  dooryard  of  the 
home;  its  most  precious  trophy  would 
fall,  not  to  the  messenger  of  death  and 
destruction,  but  to  him  who  would  bring 
into  life  being  out  of  the  virgin  soil  and 
about  the  hearthstone.  Life,  not  death, 
must  be  the  magic  master-word  of  the 
victor;  fruitfulness,  not  devastation;  the 
world-old  patience  of  the  husbandman, 
not  the  mad  fury  of  him  w^hose  hand  bore 
fii-e   and   sword.       So   much   was   made 


In  the  Shadow  of  the  Rock    269 

known  to  him,  with  the  certainty  of 
absolute  conviction,  as  the  golden  days 
passed  over  him.  Love;  wife;  home: 
heaven  and  earth  seemed  crying  the 
words  with  myriad  voices,  in  eternal 
reiteration,  and  deep  in  his  soul  he 
understood. 

Although  it  absorbed  him  so  wholly,  his 
task  was  not  great.  He  was  only  build- 
ing another  room  on  his  cabin — a  wide, 
log-walled  room,  with  a  fireplace,  like  the 
other,  and  with  deep-seated  windows 
opening  toward  the  east  and  south.  It 
would  be  primitive  enough,  he  knew,  when 
it  was  done;  j^et  every  rough  timber, 
every  stone,  every  grain  of  sand  in  the 
chinking,  was  hallowed  in  his  sight;  for 
here  Dorothy  was  to  live — Dorothy,  his 
wife,  sweet  mother  of  his  children,  dear 
sharer  in  all  the  joy  and  glory  that  life  and 
love  could  bring.  From  dawn  to  dark  he 
worked,  knowing  no  weariness;  and  of- 
ten, when  night  had  fallen,  he  would 
kindle  a  great  fire  upon  the  ground,  work- 
ing for  long  hours  by  the  light  of  the 


270  The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

flames,  his  every  muscle  and  nerve 
strung  tense,  and  singing  with  his  happi- 
ness. His  heart  was  full  of  joyful  laugh- 
ter; and  the  spring  rains  and  spring 
winds,  the  birds  at  their  spring  nesting, 
the  soft  green  mat  of  growing  things 
upon  the  spring  earth  beneath  his  feet — 
every  gay  figure  in  life's  exquisite  spring 
processional — sang  with  him  in  a  jocund 
abandon  of  delight.  There  was  no  mo- 
ment of  idleness.  Before  his  southern 
door  he  built  a  rustic  ]3orch  of  slender 
saplings,  like  a  bower,  bringing  wild 
vines  from  the  woods  to  plant  about  it; 
and  in  the  mellow  earth  of  the  dooryard 
he  spread,  with  infinite  patience,  a  living 
carpet  of  purple  and  yellow  violets,  pat- 
terned with  the  airy  tracery  of  the  first 
budding  fern-fronds. 

His  work  must  be  done  by  the  first  day 
of  June;  but  he  would  suffer  none  to  help 
him.  His  own  hand  must  do  everything, 
for  pure  love's  sake.  Nor  would  he  suf- 
fer Dorothy  to  see  what  he  was  about,  un- 
til the  great  day  would  come. 


In  the  Shadow  of  the  Rock    271 

Cannon  and  his  wife  visited  him  on  a 
golden  afternoon,  taking  sympathetic  ac- 
count of  what  he  was  ahout.  The  giant 
lolled  at  his  ease  upon  a  fallen  tree-trunk, 
tugging  at  his  shaggy  beard,  speaking 
with  a  lightness  that  could  not  wholly  ob- 
scure his  feeling. 

"  Well,  Bailey,  I  can  see  where  we  're 
goin'  to  be  shy  one  good  man  next  trip," 
he  said.  "  But  I  'd  stay  too,  if  I  was 
you ;  dummed  if  I  would  n't.  I  should  n't 
wonder  if  this  is  what  me  an'  her  will  be 
doin'  one  o'  these  days — diggin'  in  the 
dirt  an'  fixin'  a  place  where  we  can  strike 
root.  But  it  won't  be  till  after  the  next 
trip  west.  She  's  goin'  to  let  me  go  once 
more,  ain't  you,  old  lady?" 

"  Oh,  yes!  "  she  smiled  placidly.  "  Just 
as  I  'm  going  to  let  the  wind  go.  It 
would  be  foolish  to  try  to  hold  the  wind 
in  one  place,  w^ould  n't  it,  now?  " 

"Just  once  more!"  Cannon  repeated, 
his  lively  eyes  grave  for  the  moment. 
"  I  've  been  thinkin'  about  it,  a  heap. 
Look  here:  I  've  found  a  verse  that  kind 


272  The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

o'  seems  to.  fit.  Lemme  read  you." 
From  the  bosom  of  his  shirt  he  brought 
a  small  worn  Bible,  turning  the  leaves 
with  clumsy  thumb  until  he  had  found 
what  he  sought.  "  I  read  her,  some- 
times, when  the  fit 's  on  me,"  he  said, 
"  an'  I  run  across  this  last  night,  when  I 
was  layin'  by  the  fire.  Listen!  'And 
they  took  of  the  fruit  of  the  land  in  their 
hands,  and  brought  it  down  unto  us,  and 
brought  us  word  again,  and  said.  It  is  a 
good  land  which  the  Lord  our  God  doth 
give  us.'  There!  What  do  you  make 
out  o'  that  ?  Was  n't  that  like  we  're 
doin'?  Ain't  we  fixin'  it  for  them 
that 's  come  after  us,  just  the  same 
as  them  old  roosters  done  ?  You  're 
damned  right  we  are !  We  're  breakin' 
the  way  for  them  that 's  to  come  after  us, 
an'  lettin'  'em  know  what  they  've  got  to 
expect.  It 's  got  to  be  done.  We  won't 
get  our  names  in  no  book,  like  them  old 
Jews.  Nobody  won't  remember  who  we 
be,  nor  yet  what  we  done ;  but  it 's  got  to 
be   done,   just   the   same,   an'    I   reckon 


In  the  Shadow  of  the  Rock    273 

mebbe  the  Lord  '11  be  just  as  tickled  as 
He  was  then." 

"Yes,  yes!"  his  wife  sighed  softly. 
"  If  I  were  a  man,  I  should  feel  so  too. 
But  I  'm  a  woman,  and  I  want  my  home. 
This  will  be  a  wilderness  for  the  women 
until  they  have  made  their  homes  and — 
and  their  graveyards — a  place  for  the  liv- 
ing and  a  place  for  the  dead." 

Cannon  struck  his  great  hands  together 
with  a  helpless  gesture.  "Lord  God!" 
he  cried;  "why  can't  we  see  ahead,  an' 
know  what 's  best?  But  I  'm  goin',  wife 
— just  once  more.  I've  got  to;  I've 
got  to!" 

Forrester  came  too,  sometimes,  loiter- 
ing about  and  looking  on  while  Mark 
worked.  He  seemed  to  know  no  distress 
over  the  time  to  come,  but  faced  it  with 
his  habitual  air  of  amused  tolerance.  It 
was  with  a  light,  off-hand  whimsicality^ 
that  he  spoke  one  day,  as  June  drew 
near: 

"  Hurry  up  the  wedding,  Mark.     I  'm 
waiting  for  it.     Then  I  'm  going  down  to 
18 


2  74  The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

Kansas  and  play  mth  those  Free  S oilers 
for  a  wliile.  Thej^  're  ha^dng  no  end  of 
fun,  and  it  will  be  something  different  for 
me.  This  game  's  too  slow  for  my  taste. 
Frick's  going  to  keep  my  money  for  me; 
he  can  take  care  of  it  a  lot  better  than  I 
can.  But  I  want  to  play  at  something 
swifter — something  gorgeous  and  inter- 
esting. Be  quick  now,  and  let  me  go,  be- 
fore the  thing  gets  stale  with  thinking 
about  it." 

A  day  in  June,  and  in  the  bridal  fresh- 
ness and  splendour  of  the  morning  INIark 
stood  at  Dorothy's  side  upon  the  carpet 
of  violets  beneath  the  trees,  listening  in 
rapture  while  the  simple  words  were 
spoken  that  made  her  his  wife.  Never 
was  such  a  morning  before  since  the 
world  began,  he  was  sure;  heaven  and 
earth  seemed  burnished  to  the  brilliance 
of  flame,  decked  mth  all  the  glories  of 
Nature's  immortal  life.  Never  before 
was  such  a  chapel  as  that  of  the  spring 
woodland,  aisled  with  the  arched  leafage 


In  the  Shadow  of  the  Rock    275 

of  oaks  and  elms  and  lindens,  resounding 
with  the  deathless  music  of  life  and  love. 

All  the  folk  of  the  neighbourhood  were 
there — the  freighters,  the  passing  emi- 
grants, the  townsmen,  and  the  pioneer 
husbandmen,  standing  about  in  a  smiling 
throng,  sharing  in  his  happiness. 

"  I,  Dorothy,  take  thee,  Mark—"  So 
much  he  heard,  and  then  what  followed 
became  to  him  like  a  dream  until  the  peo- 
ple gathered  about  and  he  felt  the  kindly 
pressure  of  their  toil-hardened  hands, 
read  what  was  in  their  homely,  sun- 
browned  faces,  and  watched  while  they 
went  away,  in  merry  groups,  down  the 
hillside  through  the  trees. 

Forrester  was  the  last  to  go,  lingering 
as  though  held  by  subtle  chains.  But 
there  was  upon  him  no  outward  show  of 
emotion;  his  lips  were  smiling,  his  eyes 
full  of  light,  his  lithe  shoulders  squared. 
Without  a  word  he  lifted  Dorothy's  hand 
and  touched  it  reverently  with  his  lips,  be- 
fore giving  his  hand  to  Mark,  holding  the 
strong  fingers  with  a  clinging,  affection- 


276  The  Shadow  of  a  Great  Rock 

ate  pressure.  Their  eyes  met,  and  he 
tried  to  speak,  but  the  words  would  not 
come. 

"Good  luck!"  he  cried  with  a  laugh, 
and  turned  away. 

When  he  was  gone,  Mark  took  Doro- 
thy's hand  in  his  and  led  her  to  the  door- 
way of  their  home,  standing  there  mth 
her,  looking  down  upon  her,  feasting  his 
soul  upon  her  radiant  loveliness,  hardly 
daring  to  breathe  or  to  move  lest  the 
wondrous  spell  might  be  broken.  It  was 
long  before  he  spoke.  Laying  his  strong 
hand  upon  her  fair  head,  he  gently  turned 
her  face  to  his,  looking  into  her  glorious 
eyes — well-springs  of  love  and  tender- 
ness and  trust.  Stooping,  he  kissed  her 
upon  the  lips. 

"  Dorothy !  Wife !  "  he  whispered. 
Then,  his  strong  arm  about  her,  he  drew 
her  within  the  cabin. 

THE  END 


Ji  Selection  from  the 
Catalogue  of 

G.  P.  PUTNAM'S   SONS 


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The 
Trilogy  of  Rome 

By 

Antonio   Fogazzaro 

"  The  Greatest  of  Italian  Novelists  " 

(Authorized  American  Editions) 

1.  The  Patriot 

(Piccolo  Mondo  Antico) 

2.  The  Sinner 

(Piccolo  Mondo  Moderno) 

3.  The  Saint 

(II  Santo) 

'TpHE  first  of  these  romances  is  an  impassioned 
-^  story  of  lovers  struggling  to  break  the  barriers 
of  aristocratic  prejudice  that  oppose  their  marriage. 
It  is  also  a  story  of  patriotism — of  the  freeing  of 
Italy  from  the  Austrian  yoke. 

In  T/ie  Sinner,  the  second  book  of  this  Trilogy, 
we  read  the  dramatic  story  of  Piero  Maironi,  the 
son  of  the  hero  of  The  Patriot,  and  of  his  love  for 
the  beautiful  Jeanne  Dessalle, — a  story  that  pre- 
sents a  vivid  picture  of  the  Italian  world  of  rank 
and  fashion,  and  involves,  too,  a  study  of  political 
and  ecclesiastical  life. 

In  The  Saint,  the  concluding  novel  in  the  series, 
the  hero  of  The  Sitmcr  and  the  lover  of  Jeanne 
Dessalle  appears  as  a  penitent  full  of  religious 
zeal  that  finds  a  double  outlet — in  asceticism 
and  works  of  mercy  and  in  an  attempt  to  reform 
the  Church  of  Rome  from  within. 

G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS 

New  York  London 


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music,  to  weave  together  into  a  melody ^ 

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A  Spinner  in  the  Sun 

By  MYRTLE  REED 

Author  of  "  Lavender  and  Old  Lace,"  "  The  Master's  Violin,"  etc. 

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in  "  A  Spinner  in  the  Sun."  While  striking  the  chords 
of  humor,  pathos,  and  sentiment,  which  formerly  have 
never  failed  to  charm  Miss  Reed's  admirers,  it  is  more 
likely  to  please  the  exacting  critic  than  anything  else 
she  has  written — and  this  because  it  evinces  a  firmer 
grasp  of  character  and  a  more  serious  grappling 
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A  Son  of  the  People 

A  Romance  of  the  Hungarian  Plains 

By  Baroness  Orczy 

Author  of  "  The  Scarlet  Pimpernel"  etc. 

Baroness  Orczy  needs  no  introduction  to  lovers  of 
good  fiction.  The  scene  of  her  new  story  is  Hungary — 
the  hero  a  handsome  young  peasant  who,  having  in- 
herited a  fortune  from  his  thrifty  father,  is  enabled  to 
save  a  Hungarian  nobleman  from  losing  all  his  lands, 
and  in  return  receives  the  hand  of  the  lord's  daughter 
whom  he  has  long  worshipped  from  afar.  Imme- 
diately after  the  wedding  the  peasant  bridegroom 
discovers  that  his  wife  despises  him  and  has  merely 
allowed  herself  to  be  sold  as  payment  of  her  father's 
debt.  How  he  tries  to  overcome  this  feeling  and 
what  effect  his  generous  and  big-hearted  nature  finally 
has  upon  her  must  be  left  for  the  reader  to  find  out 
for  himself.  Like  The  Scarlet  Pimpernel^  the  present 
story  is  of  intense  dramatic  interest  and  shows  great 
emotional  strength. 

Crown  8vo,     $1.50 

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No.  101 

By 
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AutHor  of  **  Monsieur  Martin,"  etc 

A  stirring  story  of  adventure  during  the  war  of  the 
Austrian  Succession.  No.  lOl  was  the  cipher  used  as 
a  signature  by  a  daring  spy  through  whose  agency  the 
English  were  supplied  with  exact  and  unerring  informa- 
tion concerning  the  French  plans. 

"It  abounds  in  strong  incident  and  sharp  and  abun- 
dant anfractuosities  of  plot.  If  the  reader  does  not  like 
it  he  is  a  realist  and  we  pity  him."— iV.  Y.  Sun. 

"  We  speak  enthusiastically  of  this  romance.  It  pos- 
sesses originality — very  great  originality — in  plot  and 
character  drawing.  The  women  are  so  well  drawa  that 
the  reader  will  fall  in  love  with  them — Yvonne  of  the 
Spotless  Ankles  in  particular." — Baltimore  Sun. 

"  An  exciting  story,  full  of  action,  mystery,  love,  and 
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